


TIMESTAMP: A Grimm for Barsuki, AK -- From Ch 20

by Naoe



Series: GRIMM Fates [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angel Castiel, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean is a Grimm, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Graphic Description of Corpses, Grimm TV world, Grimm!Dean, Illness, Investigations, M/M, Murder, Possessive Castiel, Russian, Sex, Testing out translation options, Timestamp to My Keeper Ch 20, Violence, Wesen, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-16 14:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3492044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naoe/pseuds/Naoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are hiding from everyone, landing them in Barsuki, Alaska, a small traditional village with a high number of Wesen. But things have been going wrong in Barsuki for a while, people dying of illness, while others have been murdered, if they are found at all.</p><p>Grimm-in-training Dean is on the case, with his possessive angel by his side.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>TIMESTAMP for My Keeper CH 20</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Our Food and The Brothers Mikhailov

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, there’s an actual small village called Nikolaevsk, AK, that this is _**very** loosely_ based on. Спасибо. Also, I had not planned on this. At all. Damn it.
> 
> BTW -- I cannot Russian. I know very little about Russian culture, aside from stereotypes about furry caps and vodka. Most of what I officially know is in context of greater historical and political events, that one should not to start a land war there, and that I like borscht. That’s it. Everything in here is based on Internet information, and I double checked the Russian with a friend. I also know nothing about Alaska aside from what the Internet tells me, and the movies _30 Days of Night_ and _Insomnia_. If I’m wrong about anything, tell me and I will gladly fix it.
> 
>  **ABOUT THE RUSSIAN** : I am testing two methods in here. One is an in-document link, which I think works okay. The other is the Select-to-See translation option (with the bulk translation on the bottom, Just In Case). Please tell me which one works better for you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the run, Cas and Dean end up in Barsuki, Alaska, in a tiny village with Russian traditionalists, a lot of Drang-Zorn (badger Wesen), and a rash of murders and illness that is hanging over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is why the regular chapter is SO late. I'm sorry. Please read this first.

> " _For love does not seek its own, it labors, sweats, watches to build up the brother: nothing is inconvenient to love, and by the help of God it turns the impossible into the possible .... Love believes and hopes .... It is ashamed of nothing. Without it, what is the use of prayer? What use are hymns and singing? What is the use of building and adorning churches? What is mortification of the flesh if the neighbor is not loved? Indeed, all are of no consequence .... As an animal cannot exist without bodily warmth, So no good deed can be alive without true love; it is only the pretense of a good deed." ~ Saint Tikhon of Zadonsk (Тимофей Савельевич Соколов, 1724–1783)_

* * *

Dean was freezing his ass off. He was. He was used to the temperatures being in the 90s, but here in the Kenai Peninsula, the average summer high was 68F, dark and overcast, and right now he felt like his dangling bits and pieces were going to fall right off. “Cas, why did you pick _Alaska_?”

Cas was still wearing the tan trench coat over Dean’s old tshirt and jeans. It was all the stuff Karen had given him, and he didn’t look at all affected by the _much_ cooler weather. “There are not many people here,” he said mildly. “And there is very little technology for them to catch us with.”

Dean shivered again, wishing for at least three more layers than the flannel shirt he had hastily put on over the Pink Floyd tshirt he was wearing. “But it’s freakin’ _cold_ , man!”

Dean tried not to sputter in indignation as Cas actually rolled his eyes at him. “ _Dean, you complained loudly and adamantly about the hideaway in the tropics, saying it was too hot, too humid, and there were too many snakes._ ”

Dean shuddered at the reminder. “Cas, there were a shitton of _pythons_ in our bed. _Pythons!_ Why can you not understand there are some things humans do not want to wake up to, one of them being _a fucking huge, moving pile of snakes that can eat us?_ ”

Cas blinked at him, the blue eyes innocent. “They liked your body heat,” he said slowly, as if it were evident.

Dean grunted with annoyance, and bounced up and down a bit to get warm. He turned to look at the new place, a small log cabin that was hidden from the road by a wall of trees, painted a cheerful yellow that had peeled in places, revealing the logs underneath. It was set on top of a stone base that looked solid, with a small sagging set of stairs and a tiny porch that was barely big enough for the set of empty pots that had been left there. The chalet-style roof looked in good shape, though. The windows were tightly shut with what looked like carved panels, the whole of the window looking like someone had taken their sweet time to carve out the elaborate knots into the frame. A roadway was paved out into what he guessed was the main road, but they looked pretty far from everything. It sat humbly in the middle of what might have been a meadow, but the land looked untamed and currently more mud than land. Around thirty feet off, a small, worn looking barn sat, a busted up tractor forlornly laying in pieces next to it.

“This is rather depressing.” He heaved a sigh. “Any way, how far away are we from people?”

 _“Around a mile or so. The town is small, however, with only two hundred and nine people.”_ He shrugged. _“There are also around one hundred and seven Wesen.”_

“Wesen!” Green eyes shot over to Cas concerned, and Cas shrugged again, the motion oddly human on him. _I hope he didn’t pick that up from me, but, honestly, who else?_

But, seriously, Cas had chosen a place with a lot of Wesen without consulting Dean. Suspiciously, Dean asked, “Do you know what _kind_ of Wesen?”

Cas blinked at him, his head tilting a bit. _“I am not completely sure, but I believe they are Drang-Zorn.”_

 _Badgers. God damned, filthy-tempered **badgers**._ Dean groaned at the thought of over one hundred Drang-Zorn nearby, but then he shivered uncontrollably and realized that badgers were currently the least of his problems. Rubbing his shoulders with his hands to get some circulation, he sniped, “Ah, fuck this. You’re _**sure** _ this place is okay?”

Cas nodded. “ _The community is small, and they stay away from cities. This particular cabin has been deserted for a while. There are no signs of human habitation for at least a month or so.”_ He motioned somewhere to his right, Dean guessed it was towards the sea as he added, _“Most of these people here are commercial fishermen and they are very religious. I think it’ll be okay as long as we keep a low profile.”_

Dean blew into his hands, and rubbed them together too. “Well good. Now, let’s get in so I can open the flue and get a fire started. I’m freezing here!”

Cas frowned. _“It’s only 63 degrees, Dean. It’s not that cold.”_

“I’ve been sweating my balls off in 90 to 100 degree heat for like… two weeks straight, what with Arizona and New Mexico trying to fry us, and then South Dakota being barely any different! And then you planted us on an island near the damned equator. That’s all ball-melting heat, followed by torrential rain, Cas! Now we’re in Alaska, and it’s like a 20 to 30 degree difference!”

Cas smiled and stepped in close to Dean, wrapping arms around his waist and his wings around them both. “Shall I warm us up?” He murmured, his lips grazing over Dean’s jaw lazily.

Dean smiled and leaned into the warm embrace, rubbing his cheek against the riotous dark hair of his mate, the delicate scent of wing oil tantalizing in his nose. In the past week on the run, he had learned a lot about wings and wing maintenance, including the many and various uses of wing oil. He chuckled deep in his chest, and nibbled the crook of Cas’s neck, making his way to Cas’s ear. “I am all for that, but maybe not in the friggin’ cold, out in plain view.”

Cas pulled back enough to smile up at Dean, who leaned in and kissed him gently. “I suppose we ought to get a move on,” he said after a moment of blissing out on Cas’s soft lips. “You remember what I told you to get, right? Like the bare essentials.”

Cas kissed him again. _“As if you would let me forget. And if I see pie, I am to buy it.”_

Dean grinned and pushed him off, ignoring the adorable pout. “That’s right. Pie is the most important thing. I know you know that.”

He ignored the eye roll this time, and turned to look at the cabin again.  

While Cas walked to the town to get food, Dean needed to clean up the house, as it looked like it had been deserted for a while.  At least there was a small mountain of wood piled up, because it was cold as a witch’s tit.

After hefting his precious duffle and Cas’s army-green barrack’s bag, Dean cautiously stepped up the steps and onto the small deck, feeling it groan as he put weight on it, but it held and he counted it a win. He unlocked the door with his lock pick, the elaborately carved and heavy door creaking just a bit as it swung open. The interior was, if possible, colder than outside. He shivered again, and looked around. There was furniture, it looked like, all of it covered in dust cloths. There was a giant stone fireplace in the wall, facing the small living room, a small collection of logs next to it. There were, to his disconcertion, a mounted deer head and what looked like a stuffed moose head. A large split log breakfast bar separated the room from the small kitchen. He dropped the bags and wandered over to the kitchen to take a look, and it seemed, to his relief, the stove was gas powered. The small refrigerator was off, and the cabinets were also of rough-hewn logs. It was a two-butt kitchen. Two _very small_ butts.

He wandered back into the living room and started pulling off the cloth, releasing only a moderate amount of dust. This revealed dark brown leather couches and seats, a set of tall lamps with cast iron designs that looked sort of like bears, and a large and heavy looking coffee table. He hummed thoughtfully and carefully folded the dust cloths to try and prevent spiders from making homes in them.

That done, he used his phone’s flashlight to check the interior of the fireplace for more unwelcome guests, and opened the flue. He was glad he had just used his hand because a half pound of dust and ash fell into the open pit. He coughed as it got into his mouth, and he methodically put together the tinder, kindling, and some larger logs from the pile that was set next to the fireplace.

He pulled out his silver lighter (a Grimm’s investment piece) and primed the flue with a bit of rolled up newspaper, but not before checking the date. _Huh, six months ago. No wonder there’s so little dust._

Then again, it could have been from the last time they made a fire, so it was a toss up whether or not it was an accurate measure.

He lit the tinder and sat back after the very dry wood and kindling started to burn at a satisfactory rate. He sucked in a relieved breath and stood up to look around. There was no sign of hurried departure that he could see. He wandered over to a ladder that lead to a small bed nook above the fireplace, and he checked it for wildlife, relieved that he didn't see any, but making a mental note to ask Cas to double check. After the snake fiasco, he was absolutely done sharing his bed roll with creatures or creepy crawlies. The covered mattress was in good shape, though bare and without pillows, and he hoped that somewhere in the house they had left some bedding.

He climbed down the ladder, wondering if it was good that the nook was pretty defensible, or bad that it was an inescapable corner, and started poking in the closets.  

He gave a whoop of victory as one of the closets yielded some old woven rugs that looked like they were supposed to insulate the stone floor, and further investigation found two pillows and a duvet that were dusty and bit moldy. He’d have Cas mojo them clean, if possible. Cas was trying to be as low power as he could, keeping them off the radar. This had meant taking care of some annoying human things, like washing things and showering, had taken precedence over a mojo swipe and another round of nookie.

More poking around found the bathroom, which was the second biggest room. The tub was ancient and close examination revealed hairline cracks in the porcelain of the clawed tub with the hand-held shower head, but it was still usable. A sink with a plain mirror flat against the wall was set snugly against a cabinet. A quick peek inside the cabinet revealed an aging washer/dryer, which he suspected worked, if a bit sketchily. Above it was a set of shelves, ostensibly for towels and supplies. He would bet the bathroom was missing a component, perhaps above the toilet, where goods could be stored, but since he lived out of his duffle, a working sink and a toilet were good enough for his needs. He also had no idea how long Cas wanted them to hang around, so collecting things seemed pointless.

He nodded idly to himself as he checked the back door, which was deadbolted and blocked with a large wooden barricade. That was interesting. The rest of the house didn't seem to have so many locks set up around it; the front door was easy to pick and the windows didn't have bars on them. He eyed the wood bar again for a moment, filing it away for later perusal.

He made his way back to the living room, relieved as the fire had merrily started to burn in earnest and make the room actually warm. He took the rugs outside to air them. There were three giant woven rugs, no bugs in them, just bits of bug shell and dust. He shook them hard until no more visible dust rose off them and then dragged them back in. He got busy putting the rugs in place and shoving the furniture around. He should have gone into town, but Cas actually knew where the hell they were and he sure as hell didn’t. Also, Cas was less domestic than he was, what with being an angel, but he could buy stuff if told what was needed.

He was just about to check the water situation when Cas finally returned with a brown paper bag filled with food.

“You’re finally back,” he said cheerfully. “I did what I could, but, honestly, it’s still going to be rough.”

Cas looked around at the cabin and smiled beatifically at him. _“It already feels warm and comfortable, Dean. Thank you.”_

Dean pushed down his desire to blush, cleared his throat, and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Um, well, say that _after_ I've asked you to clear the sleeping nook of any creeping uglies, mojo clean the bedding, and magically turn on any utilities.”

Cas kept his smile and walked into the kitchen. He put the bag of groceries on the breakfast bar and proceeded to hug Dean as if he were precious, dropping a chaste kiss on his lips. It always made him uneasy being handled so delicately, despite the love that emanated from his angel. “ _I’ll say it now, and I’ll say it again after I've done as you've asked.”_

Dean smiled shyly, dropping his eyelids flirtatiously. His thumb brushed over Cas’s bottom lip as he asked, “Uh, how about you try saying it with your outside voice? I know you can talk human now that your grace is fully recovered.”

Cas opened his mouth and then closed it, a perplexed expression flitting over his face. _“Perhaps I can speak much better and more easily than when you found me, but I am still ill at ease doing so.”_

“That’s because you talk all proper and stuff.” He chuckled, and kissed his angel lightly before escaping his arms and heading towards the bag. “Did you have any trouble?”

_“Not very much. They mostly speak Russian here, but it seems people can also speak English. That is not that bad, really, the Cyrillic alphabet more similar to Enochian than Roman lettering.”_

Dean pulled out the round loaf of bread, a huge hard sausage, the box of cereal, bag of coffee, and the half gallon of milk. As he took them out, a bunch of apples rattled around freely in the bag. “What’s with the apples, Cas?”

Cas picked one up one of the red fruits and eyed it. “ _Well, they seem very friendly towards newcomers. It was that, or that I spoke Russian. After all, there’s only one store in town. The man running it was very nice and told me a great deal about the town.”_

“One store?”

Cas nodded. _“The sign said it was a post office, grocery store, and souvenirs. I don’t know what that means, but they did have coffee as you requested.”_

“Well, thank god for that.” Cas beamed approval at him. Dean colored a tad. “I didn't mean it like that.”

 _“Regardless of your intentions, it’s nice to hear you thanking Father rather than cursing him.”_ Dean didn't miss the prim look as Cas moved the apples into a pile on the counter. _“Don’t think I didn't hear the badger comment.”_   He paused, playing with one of the apples. _“Also, I feel like I should tell you there’s something odd going on in town.”_

“Oh? Does it have to do with us?

Blue eyes narrowed somewhere to the space to his left, and Cas said, “Not us, specifically.”

“Um, angel business?”

“I suspect Grimm business.”

“So business as normal.” Dean blew out a sigh. “Okay, then I guess we can go check it out. Is there a cafe or restaurant or something?” He picked up the solid sausage and eyed it. “I’m not sure I even know what to do with this.”

A small smile curled in the corner of Cas’s lips. “You eat it. And no. Not really.”

“By that, you mean there’s _something_. Just, not the usual.”

Cas chuckled. “I hope you like schi or borscht.”

“As long as there’s meat in it, I can probably choke it down.”

As he dug into his duffle, looking for a hoodie, he missed Cas chuckling. 

* * *

The first sign they saw said, “пища наша” painted onto a large board with what looked like fancy dishware stacked with food around it. The not-so-helpful romanization underneath it said, “Pishcha Nasha,” which caused to Dean to ask, “And that means..?”

“Our food.” Cas answered casually, eyeing the small restaurant. The façade was a bright robin’s egg blue, the beautifully carved window frames brilliantly painted in reds and yellows. It was ridiculously cheerful, and Dean just hoped the food was good or he was going to get a migraine from the shine of the place.

“Seems redundant,” Dean commented as they walked up the short walkway and up to the large patio. There were tables set outside with large umbrellas to protect from the elements, but with the day so overcast, it seemed most folks had decided inside was the way to go.

Cas shrugged. “It’s an old Russian saying. ‘Щи да каша — пища наша’ or ‘Shchi and kasha are our food.’” He chuckled. “The young man at the general store was quite cheerful and mentioned it. Said it was the only place in town to eat.”

“Did he mention what the fuck it meant?”

Nodding, Cas said, “He mentioned those two things are Russian staples and that they are very proud of their heritage.”

“Great. But I still have no idea what she-chee and cha-chee are.”

Cas took his hand as they stood on the patio, smiling love at him. “Let’s find out together.”

Dean chuckled, gripping his hand tightly for a moment. “That would be easier if you ate more often.”

Cas grinned at him and they opened the door to find every single eye on them. Dean coughed uncomfortably and mentally said, _“Cas, I think we need to keep our relationship on the down low here. I got the feeling they don’t look kindly on homosexual anything, even if one of them’s an angel.”_

Cas released his hand, and Dean felt the sad and reluctant nod through their bond.

He was tempted to say, “The hell with it!” but they were working a job, not just going out on a date, so he restrained himself.

The interior of the restaurant was homey, with rich wood tables and chairs with classy stitched ass pillows on them. There was a long bar, low to the ground for regular chairs, unlike the ones he was used to. There was a wall of what looked like a world of vodka and a section of beer with the usual giant mirror behind the bottles. There were framed photos of what looked like patrons and perhaps family on the wall, a few set into shelves where dishware and some nesting dolls seemed to live. Curtains in the same robin’s egg blue framed the windows, and, on one side of the room, a small area was set up with tablecloths and tiny vases with bright sprigs of flowers sticking out. Dean guessed that was the “restaurant” section of the place. Most of it looked set up as a bar.

A tall, large-boned woman of maybe forty-five watched them walk up. Dean was tall, but she was easily his height, with broad shoulders but equally broad hips. She was wearing a long dress of dark blue embroidered with flowers and that particular crosshatched stitching in white. She wore a matching cap on her head, covering what looked like graying mousy blonde hair, but her dark brown eyes were strong and assessing. She radiated “don’t fuck with me” and seriously reminded him of Ellen.

For a brief moment, he missed his family, but he tamped it down and smiled all friendly like. “Hello! Um, my name is Dean Townsend and this is Cas —”

“Castiel Krushnic,” Cas interrupted smoothly. _“It’s the alias I used in town,”_ he commented softly.

The woman’s eyes hardened on Cas and she asked, “Вы украинец1?”

Dean tried not to panic, when Cas easily replied, “Я американец. Мои родители украинцы.2”

She nodded, but the suspicion was not gone from her face. In the giant mirror, Dean could see the patrons were unabashedly watching the interaction. “Что привело Вас в Барсуки?3”

“ Мой друг не говорит по-русски. Я предпочитаю говорить на английском.4”

Whatever Cas said made her eye Dean with thinly disguised disapproval and, with a heavy Russian accent, she said, “Da, English it is. What can I get you boys?”

Cas smiled politely. “The house special, please. My friend here has never had real Russian food.”

The disapproval deepened, and Dean fought the urge to elbow Cas hard in the side. Instead, he smiled winningly. “Cas has said wonderful things about it, though. I am looking forward to trying it!”

The disapproval lingered, but she leaned back and yelled, “Yana! Two shchi!”

From the kitchen came a loud, “Yes, mother!”

Cas chuckled and said, “If you have them, pirozhki, please.”

The woman nodded. “And a side of pirozhki!” Those dark brown eyes assessed them again, and she said, “Allow me to show you to your seats. The food will be out shortly.”

She showed them to a seat in the corner, which was just as well, seeing as every eye was still on them. She asked them about beverages, at which Cas ordered tea, and she went to fetch their order.

The moment she left, a large burly man with a huge dark beard sat down at the table next to them and asked with only a small accent, “Are you staying in Barsuki?”

Dean smiled and said, “We are doing some research. Cas, uh, Castiel here is a graduate student in Russian.”

He felt the disbelief flare through the bond, but outwardly Cas also just smiled. “I like Russia,” he said gamely.

Dean smothered his laughter, but the amusement still bled through and the short pointed glare shot at him promised he was going to regret it later.

The man didn't appear to notice, as he was eyeing Dean sharply with deep gray eyes. “And you?”

Dean spread his hands in front of himself expansively. “I am along for the ride. I like to see new places.”

Under his breath, the man muttered, “путешественник.”

Cas nodded. “Indeed, we are travelers. We heard this village was a wonderful haven for Russian customs and the people were friendly.”

Dean wanted to hug Cas, because that was a brilliant move. The man looked over to his left at the others watching them, and said, slowly, “I believe we are generally friendlier. You have arrived in rather… _troubled_ times.”

“Troubled? What could have happened to turn an entire friendly village into an unfriendly village.”

Dean leaned forward a bit to watch the man’s reaction, and, sure enough, he woged in agitation, black fur sprouting all over his face, neck, and arms. The woge revealed his badger-like features, the short, flat nose and a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. His ear elongated and sharpened at the tip, and his lightly fisted hands grew large claws.

Dean immediately looked down, waiting for the Wesen to calm down because he knew his eyes would give him away. Over the past two weeks, Cas hadn't been the only one maturing quickly, and he had been attacked twice by members of the small tribe they had traded with in the tropics. The Cracher-Mortel, who was the tribe medicine man, had been seriously unhappy at being outed, and his henchman, twin Lausenschlange he had raised, had not taken kindly to it either. He sent out a mental curse to the stupid blowfish and his twin snake daughters (no matter how hot), and tried to focus on the guy in front of him.

It helped that Cas glared at him. _As if two banging hot chicks, who are actually giant ass snakes, are going to take my attention away from my banging hot angel, who’s **not** a giant ass snake._

He knew his crush on Indiana Jones was based on more than pure awesome. Stupid snakes.

He looked over at the other tables, and it looked like they all had woged at the same time. The small tables held like twenty Drang-Zorn. He ducked his eyes again, staring at the table. He wasn't one-hundred-percent certain that it was the eyes that gave away Grimms, but that’s what the lore said. He had never seen Bobby or John’s eyes change, but they had both gone to fancy ass Grimm training as Legacies that told them that, yes, Grimms are identifiable by the dark void littered with stars that woged Wesen saw, that scared them because the void reflected back their true natures.

_I guess the void really does stare back._

_“They’ve changed back.”_

Cas, on the other hand, wasn't human, wasn't a Grimm, and wasn't a Wesen. He also wasn't full grown so he couldn't always just tell from the energy what kind of Wesen.

_Two kids playing grown up._

He looked up to find the woman putting their tea down, along with three tiny silver serving dishes, of which he recognized sugar and lemons. The cups were glass sitting in metal bottoms. He gingerly picked it up and found the metal not hot.

“My name is Yelizaveta.” She jerked her chin towards the man across from them. “This is Abram. He captains the _Ruslan_.” She put down Cas’s tea and waved over at an equally shaggy man who looked somewhat similar to Abram around the eyes. “That’s Benedikt, his older brother. The rest is their crew: Klim, Nika, and Lev.”

Respectively, hands waved in greeting, each one a shaggy beard and rustic man. They were wearing the same sort of shirt, that was sort of long in the sleeve and at the waist, and had a closed collar. They were all embroidered too, and they all looked like stereotypical Russians from the movies. Dean wondered if they all had fuzzy hats too.

“Wow, I feel underdressed,” Dean said awkwardly, his hand rubbing the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Visitors can hardly be forced to wear косоворо́тка5 while here.” She tried smiling at them and almost succeeded. “They are for sale at the General Store if you are inclined.”

He smiled back up at her, all teeth and charm. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Abram coughed. “She is… um, overprotective.”

“It’s fine. She reminds me of someone who is just the same.” Dean chuckled. He took a sip of the tea and it was hot, black, and had a somewhat smoky flavor. Although he wasn’t a big fan of tea, it was hot, and he was, at his core, still freezing his gnads off. Cas’s hand stopped him from taking another sip, as Abram was regarding him with a bemused expression  that sort of looked like, “American weirdo,” and said, _“You should add something to it. That’s why she brought lemons, milk, sugar, and jam.”_

_“Jam? Are you fucking with me?”_

Clear blue eyes mocked him as Cas carefully stirred a teaspoon of jam into his cup. “It’s delicious,” he said after delicately tasting it.

Suspicious, Dean attempted the same. The smoky flavor was mellowed by the soft taste of strawberry and actually tasted pretty good. He refused to say it, though.

It didn't matter; Cas gave him an amused look, as did Abram. He scowled at them, and ignored Cas’s chuckle. Under the table, he pinched Cas’s leg, which was a futile move, since he didn't even acknowledge it.

Sighing, Dean said, “So you were talking about troubles..?”

Abram’s brother ( _Benedikt, was it?_ ) leaned over and said, “There has been a cloud of death over our village for awhile now.

The proprietress ( _What the hell was her name again?_ ) snapped from the bar, “Benny, shut your mouth. You’ll scare our guests.”

“As if you haven’t scared them enough already, Liza!” Benny huffed, waving off her warning. “They are staying here. They need to know!”

Abram nodded, his dark shaggy hair flopping forward with the action. “Whatever you do, you must not go anywhere alone. There have been… a few murders.”

“Murders? How and how many?” Dean was moving into his professional mode, and Cas just let him, his blue eyes hooded but paying attention to parse info with Dean later.

“Too many! They happen at all times of the day or night. People just disappearing into the forests, sometimes found with their throats chewed away, sometimes nothing left but their clothes and some blood!” The high-pitched voice from the fellow with shaggy yellow hair and light brown beard was a surprise. _Nika, I think._

The best part about unsolved tragedy was that people loved to talk about it. He opened his mouth to ask another question, when a bowl of steaming soup was put down in front of him with a resolute snap. He looked up at Liza (?) and she said with a grim smile, “Sir, your food will get cold if you wait too long. Shchi waits for no one.”

Dean looked at the bowl of green and squinted at it. There appeared to a lot of cabbage and veggies, but no meat. There was even a giant dollop of what he suspected was sour cream. He pointed at it. “What is this?”

Her lips thin, she replied, “Shchi.”

He returned, “Where’s the meat?”

She said, “This version has no meat. It is original recipe from my mother.”

Cas surreptitiously slid his hand to Dean’s knee and squeezed. Dean looked up and scowled heavily at him. _The little shit had **known** there was no meat…_

“Oh, here are the pirozhki!” The cheerful voice belonged to a black-haired teenager, around fifteen years old. She had a bright pink kerchief over her head and her dress was the same color with bright blue flowers embroidered in with the same crosshatch stitching in purple. She took one look at Dean and her smile got a smidgen bigger, and, although she might have missed it, Dean didn't miss the tiny frown on Cas’s face. “Oh! Momma,” she said in the universal squeal of the teenage girl, “Красавчики! ты не сказала мне, что они красавчики!6”

“Hush, Yana,” her mother scolded. “Один из них говорит по-русски.7 You’re embarrassing yourself!”

Dark brown eyes like her mother’s, framed with long, black lashes, twinkled mischievously at them, but what came out of her mouth was, “Yes, momma.”

She handed over the dish and threw a flirtatious grin at Dean as she walked back into the kitchen, missing her mother’s tired sigh and accompanying eye roll. “Teenagers,” she said. She pushed the plate of pirozhki onto the table, and Dean’s mouth watered at the smell: meat. There was _definitely_ meat in there.

There were six pirozhki, each on the size of a Hostess fruit pie. In fact, they looked _exactly_ like a pie, except they were small and smelled deliciously like meat. “Uh, Cas,” he murmured, ignoring the amused looks he was getting. It was hard to speak with a watering mouth. “What are those?”

“Pirozhki, obviously.” Cas had already stirred his soup, which was now creamy, and had started eating it.

“And what’s in them?”

Liza laughed. “In these? Meat and mushrooms.”

He picked one up and bit into it. His eyes rolled back and he groaned filthily, causing Cas to stop mid-bite to stare and blush, while the rest of the people in the restaurant started laughing heartily. He suspected there were some bawdy jokes in there, from the red faces, but he didn't care. “Oh my GOD, Cas! It’s _PIE_! It’s a meat _PIE_! I can have _PIE_ for dinner!”

He chewed some more and took another bite with another toe-curling moan. “It’s like my two favorite things in one dish! Why did I not know about this? Holy shit, this is delicious!”

He proceeded to snarf down two more, moaning his way through them. Although Liza may have been unhappy about her soup being ignored, it was hard to get angry when her pirozhki were practically causing Dean to roll on the floor orgasming. After his third, he realized he was being rude and paid attention to his soup, stirring it like he saw Cas to it, and then he cautiously tasted it.

It was delicious.

It wasn't what he expected, but even without meat, the flavor was pleasant and filing. The heat of the broth was nice, and the sour cream added a thickness that nearly made it into a stew. It mostly tasted like cabbage, which wasn't bad. It just wasn't what he was used to. He ate it all, and, feeling super stuffed, still eyed the last two pirozhki on the plate.

“Dean, we can take those home.” Cas was genuinely amused at his new-found love of pirozhki. “We can also come back later for some more.”

Reluctantly, he watched Cas ask to have the pirozhki wrapped up to be taken home. He rubbed his stomach, and tried to burp delicately.

Abram, who had moved back with his buddies to drink and talk while they ate, again sat near them, this time Benny coming with him. Benny, it turned out, was shorter and stockier than his brother, having a large paunch that he occasionally rubbed affectionately, as if it were his buddy. His own unruly head of brown hair was like a bird’s nest along with his giant beard, making him look remarkably like a much shorter Hagrid. Nika, Lev, and Klim stayed at their table, nursing their beers and discussing taking a sauna at Klim’s house later, since it was his turn.

“So, strangers,” Benny said. His voice was husky, and he had a small wheeze. Dean wondered if he had asthma. “How long do you plan to stay here?”

“For a while,” Dean said, sipping on his now cold tea. It still tasted good, though.

Just as he thought that, Liza came and took their cups to be refilled. When she dropped them off, Cas again dropped jam in his and a bit of milk. Dean cautiously followed suit, the flavor deepening with the milk. He hummed deep in his chest and looked to Benny. “Is that a problem?”

“Not really. It’s just dangerous.”

Abram looked to Cas. “You may want to reconsider your study. Go home, away from here.”

“Uh, we can’t. We, uh… got money from the school to study.” Dean remembered this was a thing from movies, and he hoped he was pulling it off. “Look, we can’t just beat it yet. Besides, it sounds like you folks could use some help.”

“We don’t need help,” Abram said, wearily. “We need a miracle.”

“Miracles come in all shapes and sizes,” Cas said quietly as he sipped his tea.

Abram eyed him with doubtful gray eyes. Dean finally asked, “How many people have died now?”

“The land has been cursed,” Nika said from their table. He pointed at Dean and Cas. “You’re going to be cursed too. First the doctor just up and died one day! And then Daniil, Yevgeniy, Katia all fell sick and died.” He swept an agitated hand through his yellow hair. “Karp and Lilya are now in the last stages of the same illness, unable to sleep and plagued by demons.” Wild blue eyes stared at them. “Who will be next?”

Klim finally broke his silence. His brown eyes were solemn, his face drawn and thin, a multitude of lines in it, from both age and years in the sun. His dark hair was mostly iron gray that looked like it used to be black. His beard was sparser than the others and a graying black. “Maks, Andrei, Nina, Semyon, and Arina have all gone missing.”

“Anna, Greg, Feliks, and Ed have all been found dead, either bitten to death or just bit of their clothes and large puddles of blood being left behind.”

Lev muttered, “And Ed and Anna barely in their teens, too.”

“Poor Arina… she’s just a toddler and she was taken two days ago.”

Dean sat up. “Two days ago?”

Abram motioned at the restaurant full of people and said, “Why do you think we’re here and not at sea?”

He shrugged. “The weather? I don’t know... I’ve never fished off a boat.”

“The weather, he says,” snorted Benny. The others shared a laugh at Dean’s expense, and he snapped, “Okay, okay. I get it. Rain or shine, or some shit. Look, tell me about the toddler.”

Abram slowly said, “She was out playing while her mum hung the laundry, and when she turned about, the girl was gone.”

“Any clues?”

“Some trampled grass. A muddy bare footprint. That’s it.” Abram shifted awkwardly as Liza showed back up and gave them all a hard expression.

Cas finally jumped in and asked, “Um, what about… police?”

The guys all laughed. “Sir, there isn’t any police here. Before this, there was no crime.” Abram wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “And we were lucky we had one doctor. I mean, if it was too serious, he had to send us off to Homer. That’s the nearest hospital.”

Lev said shortly, “Besides, they can’t help us.” He woged and Dean looked away. He chuckled darkly. “Special circumstances. Better to keep it amongst us here.”

There was a low murmur of agreement among the men, and Cas said, _“You can look.”_

Blue eyes, brighter and more beautiful than any others, peered at him with concern. _“Do we need to leave?”_

_“In a bit.”_

Cas nodded and Dean looked up to find Abram and Benny watching them closely. He smiled warmly at them. “I have some police training. I was a police recruit for a hot minute, but, y’know, stuff happens.” He made himself look sad and pathetic. “But I can help out with this investigation.” He looked over at Klim, Nika, and Lev. “Where are the bodies?”

“The good Doctor Lilov and the rest were laid in their graves as soon as possible.” Liza pulled up a chair and sat down. “Greg, Anna, Ed, and Feliks were buried as soon as we could. But I believe pictures were taken of the bodies before that.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about this,” Abram groused, scratching his chin.

Liza shrugged. “If you fools are going to talk about it regardless, best to add in what I know lest you veer away from the truth.”

“Veer away from the truth.” Benny laughed.

Liza gave him the stink eye. “You guys like to exaggerate.”

Yana bounced up, her eyes obviously on Dean. “Mother, Kenny and Marina want to know if we have any Baba Romovaya cakes left from yesterday.”

Liza huffed out a sigh. “I’ll be right there.” She got up and walked to speak to an older couple closer to the window. Yana grinned at them, beautiful in her pink dress, her dark hair lovely and framing her round face. “So… you’re staying for a while,” she asked coyly.

Dean damped down his smile, and chuckled nervously as Cas’s gaze pinned him in place. “Indeed, Dean. How long are we staying?” The tone was tinged with ice, and, again, Abram and Benny were paying great attention to their interaction.

“Ah, perhaps long enough to see if we can’t help out.” He tried to bolster his courage, but those blue eyes were getting a touch stormy. _“Cas, she’s like… fifteen at most! You don’t have to get jealous!”_

Demurely, Cas accepted another cup of tea from Yana, whose smile was a megawatt dimmer for him in comparison to Dean’s. He handed over the cup as carefully as possible, hoping Cas wasn't going to start growling at the poor girl.

Abram suddenly broke in, “I think the last body to die of the illness is at the doctor’s office, in the morgue until it is properly prepared for burial.”

“Well, I guess we can start there.” Dean made a move to stand up, but then he realized he had no idea what time it was. “Actually, what time is it?”

“It’s 430,” Liza said, putting down the refilled tea cup. Her face said they had better finish the tea before leaving, and Dean settled back in before putting the jam in his tea. Cas added jam and milk again, and even looked happy as he sipped it.

“Is the morgue open?”

Benny looked over at Abram and said, “Well, there’s no doctor, and there is nothing valuable in there. I would imagine so.”

Dean nodded and slowly sipped his tea. “Cas and I will take a look later. No one will mind, right?”

Abram fished out his cell phone and tapped out something. Across the restaurant, phones pinged as they received messages. “I have informed the village,” he said.

Dean chuckled awkwardly. “Efficient.” _“I thought you said there was no tech in this place!?”_

_“I said there was very **little** tech. There are no cameras monitoring everything like there are in other places. There are not many computers. You asked me to avoid them so we could ‘lay low.’”_

_“I know, I know. But even these cell phones can be used like that.”_

_“I… I could short out the telephone system?”_

Dean snuck a look at Cas out of the corner of his eye and shook his head minutely. _“Let’s not do that, just in case we need some backup or emergency services, okay?”_

Cas nodded, finished off his tea, and made to stand up and pay the bill. Dean had given him some cash after they left Bobby’s, since Bobby had thankfully given them a couple grand to keep them going. Times like this, he felt pleased that Cas was doing things of his own volition, taking the initiative to try and live like a human. He didn't have to eat or drink, but he chose to in order to get closer to Dean and humans.

Perhaps ‘pleased’ was too weak a word. What he felt was ‘pride’ in his angel’s decision to seal away as much of his grace as possible.

Cas felt the pride though their bond and he looked away from the register to give Dean a happy look under his lashes. _“Flirt.”_

The tiny smile that followed just went to prove it. He chuckled deep in chest, and took his last sip of tea.

Abram and Benny were giving him matching assessing looks as they shrugged on their light coats over their shirts. Light wool beanies were firmly tugged over their heads, and they spoke briefly to the others before heading to the door.

Yana caught Dean’s arm before he could scoot out the door, and he didn't miss the wiping off of emotion from Cas's face. It didn't stop the storm in Cas’s eyes, or the low, stinging sensation of possessiveness that trilled down their bond. “Are you leaving so soon? Without dessert?”

Dean paused and turned to look at her, a genuine smile just for her sake. “Yana, we’ll be back. Yours is the only restaurant in town! How are we going to avoid that, huh?” He grinned foolishly at her with the last statement, and patted her head as if she were a child. She swatted at his hand and laughed. “That is true. I’ll see you soon enough.”

She smiled up at him, up through her lashes in an unknowing copy of Cas’s flirtatious look, and totally failing her mark. _In five years, though… woof!_

_The boys in town had better watch themselves…!_

He patted her head like a big brother, ignoring her frown, and joined the fellows outside.

“She’s going to be disappointed,” Benny said, jutting his chin out a bit in her direction. “The boys here think she is the most beautiful girl in the village.”

Dean grinned. “She’s just a kid. She’ll get over it.”

“Besides, you don’t ‘swing that way,’ right?” Abram murmured, his gray eyes curious.

Dean went still and he shot them a shit-eating grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, guys!”

Benny and Abram shared a speaking look between brothers and Dean fought gritting his teeth. “So, you’re going to show me to the clinic?”

Abram nodded and Benny grinned at Dean, all teeth and beard. “We have a lot of time before the sun sets. But the air will get colder the longer we wait.”

“Best if you and your boyfriend get back sooner than later.”

Dean stopped and felt his face burn red. He coughed and said, “Is this going to be a problem?”

The brothers looked at each other again, and Dean suddenly missed his little brother, as they smiled at each other and then smiled at him. “Our youngest brother had to leave the village.”

Abram nodded. “He is gay, but it is not permitted in the Orthodox Church. He moved to Anchorage, so he is not too far away.”

Benny added, “We were afraid he was going to move to California or New York, and they we would never see him.”

“You seem awfully accepting, seeing as it is against your religion,” Dean said slowly.

They shrugged in unison. “We love our brother. We love our religion, but Pyotr is our only little brother. We don’t agree with his lifestyle, but he doesn't agree with ours.”

Benny laughed heartily. “He’s vegan! And he hates fishing! He keeps telling us we will over fish again, and lose our livelihoods!”

Abram added his heavy chuckles, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “Little brothers, right?”

He got serious for a moment, his hand gripping Dean just a tad tighter. “But, Dean, you must not show the others. They are not as… accommodating as me and Benny. They will shun you and show you the door. They will be tight lipped and not touch you. I don’t think they will physically hurt you, but they will try and damage your inner self.” He sighed. “We noticed perhaps because we have seen Pyotr with his boyfriend while in town and you two act the same.”

With that, he released Dean and slapped him hard against the same shoulder. Dean worked at not flinching, as Abram said, “Now we will go to the clinic. Here comes lover boy now, laden with gifts!”

Dean turned to look, and, sure enough, Cas was walking down the stairway carrying several packages. He moved to help him, taking a few of the hot packages. “What is this?”

Looking a bit harried, Cas said, “Liza refused to let me leave without food when she found out we were staying at the old abandoned izba off the main road.”

From behind them, Benny said (loudly), “You’re staying in that old place?” He elbowed Abram. “The old Pronin place.”

“That’s it.” Cas juggled the three packages he was holding onto. “She gave us more food and packed it. We’re to give the dishes back later.”

“Oh she so rarely does that. She must like you.” Abram grinned. “Well, now that you have your meal, let’s go to the doctor’s.”

“Actually, Dean, I think I will take the food home. Will you be okay getting back?” Concern radiated off Cas, and Dean fought the urge to lean in and kiss him. “I can walk back and fetch you..?”

“Nah, it’s good. Go ahead, and I’ll find a way back.” He pushed love at Cas through the bond, and Cas flashed a toothy smile at him, taking back the packages.

“We’ll take him back,” Benny said, making shooing motions at Cas.

Still smiling, Cas said, “I greatly appreciate your assistance with this.”

Both Benny and Abram looked at Dean, who shrugged. “He just talks like that.”

“Ah.” Abram waved. “Da, we will get him back before sunset. It will be colder then.”

Benny added, “Make sure the beds are all warm!” They eyed each other and busted up laughing.

“Ha ha, very fucking funny, guys,” Dean groused. He shook his head at Cas surprised expression. “I’ll explain it later.”

Cas nodded and waved goodbye, pushing his own curl of love at Dean. Dean tried not to watch him walk away because his eyes wanted to follow the lines of Cas’s body.

He rubbed a hand behind his neck, and coughed. “So… clinic?”

The brothers grinned at him knowingly and slapped him simultaneously on the back. “Da, the clinic. Let’s go!” 

* * *

The doctor’s office was closer to the center of town than the restaurant. The restaurant was meant to feed the fishermen who were coming back from the sea, or the rivers, if that was what they were working that day.

The Brothers Mikhailov, as they were commonly called, were popular in the town. Although they had crammed into Abram’s massive Super Duty F-450 King Ranch (of which he was inordinately proud and called “мать,” which was a formal word for mother), with the width of the three men, it felt much smaller.

“Abram, our mother is alive. If you say that in front of her, she will kill you.”

“Not if you keep your mouth shut, she won’t!”

Benny waved at the console. “You talk to your truck with more respect than your own mother!”

“Mat does more work than our mother, now that she has no children at home and her husband is dead. All she does all day is knit!”

Dean could tell this was an old, brotherly sort of argument, and, again, he missed his little brother.

“Hey, Dean! Do you not think that Abram should respect his mother more?”

“Hmm?”

Abram guffawed. “See! You have bored Dean with your talk of propriety! Oh, look! There’s Polina! Oi! Polina! What are you out here walking alone for? You know it’s dangerous!”

Outside the truck, a thin woman in her mid-twenties stood and peered into the truck with suspicious brown eyes. “Who is in there? Benny and… oh? Is this the stranger come to town?”

Benny hooted. “Ah, see! They know already! Yes, his name is Dean. He is here with his friend Castiel.” He jerked his thumb at Dean. “He has police training. We are taking him to the doctor’s.”

Polina paled and nodded. “Poor Rey. He suffered so much.”

She crossed herself and backed away from the truck. “Good luck with that. I think they will do the burial, but because of the illness, they will not dress him for a wake.”

The brothers nodded. “Sad times. Too many dead, not enough spirit.”

They drove away and, had managed a couple blocks before being hailed by a dirty-blond man with a ridiculous goatee and a yellow Russian shirt. “Абрам! Бенедикт! Вы двое приносите только одни неприятности! Почему вы привели постороннего в клинику? Нам не нужна помощь от таких людей как он!!8”

Benny turned an exasperated eye on the man, and Abram started to look sullen. “The man’s name is Dean, and he doesn’t speak Russian. You’re being rude, Nikolai!”

Nikolai’s frown deepened. “I don’t care if I am rude. He cannot see the body. It is not right.”

“We have failed on our own, and he has police training. It can’t hurt!”

Nikolai growled and woged, giving Dean almost no time to lower his eyes and watch from under his lashes. “I will not be responsible for this! You Brothers Mikhailov are on your own when the council discovers it!’

“Fine, we will do that.” Benny growled back, woging in an instant and snapping his teeth at Nikolai.

_**This** is why I hate badgers. Bad ass tempers that snap at a moment’s notice. _

Abram put his hands between the two men and said, “Nikolai, we do not want to fight right now. We will go to the clinic and he will just look. He will not do anything untoward. I promise you.”

Nikolai woged back and pointed a stiff finger at them. “He had better not.” His hazel eyes darted among the three men. “For all your sakes.”

Benny rolled his eyes, and Abram poked him with his elbow. “Yes, Nikolai, of course.”

They drove away and Abram sighed. “Benny, for once, could you act as if you are three years older than me?”

“No way. Acting my age is boring.”

Dean started laughing. He had forgotten that Benny was the older brother. “I hear you, Benny. I’m the oldest, but my little brother acts like he’s ten years older than me!”

“Little brothers,” Benny intoned with as much fake disgust as he could muster, earning a bitch look from Abram.

“You think you’re funny, Benny? You are not.”

Dean and Benny started laughing even harder, earning another winning bitch look from Abram. “I cannot even believe you two. Dean, I hope your little brother is a saint.”

“He certainly thinks he is,” he said between snorts of laughter. “Nah, but that kid is awesome. He’s smart, and good, and I don’t know what I’d do without that little shit.”

Benny nodded understanding. “They are annoying, but you love them any way.”

Abram’s fist flew out and punched Benny hard on the shoulder. “Shut up, old man. We are here. You can insult Pyotr and me later.”

The doctor’s clinic was a small square building among so many cottages. Many of the houses were rustic, but the clinic, which would have faded into the façade of so many other towns and cities, stuck out like a sore thumb in the rustic neighborhood.

They walked in with no problem, as the doors were unlocked, and made their way to the back.

It was literally one examination room and an area in the back for autopsies if needed. At least the doctor had a proper refrigeration unit set up, just in case. _I bet he had to fight tooth and nail to keep this place._ _Modern technology, even like this, was probably unwelcome in this burg_.

The brothers crossed themselves and muttered a brief prayer while Dean tugged on the handle and pulled the body out. It was under a sheet, and pulling it down revealed a man in his twenties, his face calm in death, his skin pulled taut. There was some dried spit on the edges of his mouth, but nothing else looks obvious to his eye.

_“Cas, I need you. Can you come?”_

_“I presume now. I can come, but… we’ll have to come back the human way to go unnoticed.”_

_“Don’t you think your popping in out of nowhere is going to get us noticed?”_

_“I see your point. Can you lead the men outside and I’ll pop in and look at the body and then pop out?’_

_“Can you do that without using too much juice?”_

_“If it’s just me, it should be okay.”_

_“Fine. Give me two minutes to get them out into the doc’s office. You come in here and check out the corpse.”_

_“Agreed.”_

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line and said, “I don’t think we can figure anything out without an autopsy. You said there were a few deaths? Would he have, uh, documented it in his office?”

The brothers shared a look, and Abram shrugged. “Maybe. Shall we go look?”

Dean smiled. “Let’s check it out.”

He let the men lead him out of the room, hearing the brief rustle of feathers behind him. He turned and winked, and kept on going out the door. There were things to do.

The doctor’s office was very small, and it actually reminded Dean of a broom closet. He literally had one filing cabinet, and he picked his way through that lock in no time flat, earning a suspicious look from Abram and a gleeful look from Benny. “You’re very good at that,” he said disapprovingly.

“Yes, well, desperate times call for desperate measures,” Dean quipped, pulling the drawer open. “Now, who was the first to die?”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but it was the doctor.”

“Shit. That’s right.” He scowled at the filing cabinet. “Well, who did the doctor see before he died?”

Another shared look, and Benny said, “I think it was Daniil or maybe Yevgeniy.”

Abram shook his head. “No, I think it was Daniil. He came back from Homer after that surgery and said he felt ill.” His beetled brows knitted together. “I remember because Asya wanted to know why her son wasn't improving after getting a replacement pancreas? Remember, he was always sick, and they found out he had cancer?”

Benny grunted. “Ah, yes. I remember. He started to get sicker, and they brought him in to see Doctor Lilov to see what was wrong? And Doctor Lilov suddenly started getting ill. It was like the flu, but then he started hallucinating and going wild.”

“His wife tried to stop him, but he bit her to get away and ran in front of a car.” Abram paled a bit, and swallowed hard. “The road had been slick with rain and poor Iggy wasn’t able to stop in time. The doctor was dead, his neck snapped.”

Benny added, “Then Daniil died. He was already weak, but then he started refusing to drink anything, and he just died in his bed, his body already stiff. Then we knew there was trouble in the village.”

While they spoke, Dean searched for Daniil’s chart, not finding it in the drawer. He started looking around the doctor’s desk. “And then who died?”

“Well, Katia started to feel ill herself, and, again, it looked like the flu, but… then Anna’s body was found by the river, her throat torn out, her face shredded.” Abram shuddered. “And Ed was found the day after, in the same state, behind the general store, one of his arms missing.”

Benny was starting to look agitated. “And then Katia died, and the attacks stopped for a bit, so we wondered if it had been her, which is blasphemous! She was a pious woman and a good wife! She died in her bed, just like Daniil, rigid and damp.”

“And you guys didn’t think this was a good time to seek out help? Like, find someone outside the village?” Dean swiftly picked the desk’s lock and grinned at his success.

“Barsuki business is not for outsiders,” Abram said decisively. “We are allowing you because we like you.”

“Besides, you are already here, and you are likely to be attacked as well.”

“Reassuring,” Dean muttered, flipping through the files. He found one that said, “Rostov, Daniil”  and started reading through it. “Well, just like you said. He went to Homer to have surgery and returned, complaining of flu-like symptoms two weeks later. He was already on antibiotics, so it couldn't have been bacteria based. Looks like the doc was going to send him back to Homer for a followup, but it never got done.”

Dean tapped the file with his finger. “Who else got sick?”

“After Katia? Yevgeniy, her husband’s best friend, started to get ill. He wanted to go to Homer, but Nikolai refused to let him. Said the Cete’s problems were the Cete’s problems.”

Dean noted the slip; Drang-Zorn communities were generally called Cetes. But both of the men were too upset to monitor themselves as tightly.

“And then,” he asked.

Abram swallowed hard. “Maks... went missing. Completely missing. He had been walking home from work. We only found his parka. And then Nina went missing too, only her left hand and a puddle of blood was left.” His hands wrung together, he added, “We only know it was her because of the engagement ring.”

“Is Yevgeniy still alive?”

“Perhaps.” The brothers shared a look. Benny said, hesitantly, “He has… gone missing. It’s been a week since he got ill, and he disappeared into the woods. We’ve had no word from him.”

“Do you think he’s the one killing people?”

Abram shook his head. “How? He was with Katia the whole time she was ill. He was also getting ill, so it couldn't have been him, right?”

“Hm, maybe.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “I remember you said someone else was sick…?”

Benny nodded. “Karp and Lilya are both in bed. They are sweating, and refusing water and food. They had those seizures, but they are fine now.”

“Well, maybe we should go check up on them…?”

For the first time, Dean saw the very religious side of the two men as they crossed themselves and muttered prayers under their breaths. “We cannot. We will not be cursed.”

Dean fought rolling his eyes, but nodded agreement. “I understand. Well, who else is sick or missing?”

“Andrei, Semyon, and Arina are all missing. Andrei and Semyon went missing after church, but they walk through the forests to get to their homes. Arina, like we said, was taken from her yard. We have nothing on them, not even a blood stain.”

Benny said in a small voice, “Yes, we found Anna’s dress in shreds and part of her leg.” His lips thinned as he pressed them together. “We think it’s hers. Her mother identified the shoes she was wearing.”

“Well, that’s not awful at all,” Dean snarked under his breath, frowning at the rest of the room. If the doctor fell ill that quickly, there was unlikely to be any more evidence in the clinic. But, perhaps… “Can I get into the doctor’s house? Is there anyone there?”

Abram shook his head. “There is no way you can get in there. The family has abandoned it as cursed by illness and bad luck, and they are likely to burn it within the month. It is being closely watched by the neighbors in case of demons or ghosts.”

_Well, we can’t rule them out. But still…_

Dean sighed. “Alright. If we ask the family, can we get in?”

Benny laughed darkly. “Brother, do you really want to incur the wrath of the undead? Leave it be. The ashes will fly with the wind, taking the misfortune with it.”

Dean eyed the stubborn expressions on the men. Mentally, he asked, _“Cas, you done in there?”_

_“I’ve been done for a while, Dean. You just like to talk.”_

Dean tried to hide his chagrin, but Cas caught it and amusement poured into him. _“Wait til I get home, you brat.”_

 _“I have been waiting.”_ Cas purred down the bond. _“And I’m keeping the bed warm for you.”_

Dean bit his lip to stop himself from reacting to that image, but it was telling how much Cas had changed in the last two weeks of being with him all the time, how much information he had gained from constantly being in contact with his humanity through the bond. His posture had relaxed, and he looked more at home in his body.

“You okay there? Worried?” Benny snapped his fingers in front of Dean’s face, and he came back to himself.

“Ah, sorry. I spaced out.” He grinned. The men smiled back. It was good.

_Fake it til you make it._

“Let’s get you home to your boyfriend,” Abram said, clapping Dean hard on the back. “Maybe he kept your bed warm, like we suggested?”

The bawdy laughter echoed oddly in the small room, and Dean tried to hide his blush. He suspected he had failed, but it kept the men from looking deeper into his distraction. Or maybe they think it has to do with the killings. _Well, it’s about the supernatural, so maybe it counts?_

“Well, get me home so I can check,” he replied cheekily, grinning into their shared “AHHH!!” and enduring more backslapping and jokes about his sex life.

Internally, he was thinking about how he was going to get into the doctor’s house.

The brothers dropped him off at the abandoned cabin (they kept calling it the Pronin place) and he stepped into the warmth of the cabin with relief. The sun was going down slowly, but the temperature was also dropping. His hoodie was giving him only so much relief.

The windows were still sealed shut, so the interior was dark, lit by only the roaring fire. He called out, “Cas!” as he shut the door and stripped off his hoodie and flannel, positioning himself in front of the fireplace. Rubbing his hands together briskly, and fanning them over the fire, he nearly jumped when a warm pair of arms wrapped around him.

“Dean,” he half moaned into the notch between Dean’s shoulders. Cas nuzzled him right there, and he shivered.

“Did you miss me? I was only gone like forty minutes, max.”

Warm hands wormed their way into the bottom of his tshirt, Cas’s palms flat against his skin and sliding up to his chest. “Still missed you,” Cas murmured, teasing Dean’s nipples with his fingers.

Dean let out a small gasp, bowing back against him. “Cas, you remember we’re in the middle of investigating a case?” He asked weakly.

A pair of warm lips nibbled at the back of his neck. “You’re thinking about going out after dark.” His wings flared out and enveloped them, and he deliberately moved them against Dean’s body, knowing he was weak to them. “We have time until then.”

The soft scent sunk into his senses, and Dean was carried away by the feelings of love and desire that swept through the bond. “Cas, I—”

“Shhh… I’ve got you,” Cas murmured against his neck, biting him lightly there, while brushing his primary feathers over Dean’s body in slow strokes. He removed Dean’s tshirt in a shift motion over his head. He then repositioned his hand to grip Dean’s throat lightly, as he planted kisses all along his beloved’s shoulders and the back of his neck, his other hand slipping over to rub the growing bulge in Dean’s pants.

Dean shuddered and leaned back into it, his own hand reaching back to dig into the short curls that just touched Cas’s neck. He tugged Cas’s head up to kiss him, and, even from that angle, his mouth slipped perfectly over those puffy pink lips and blossomed into a feud of tongues. Cas’s hand smoothed down Dean’s chest in response, and Dean pushed it down to his waistband, helping Cas unbutton his jeans with fumbling fingers, sliding them off his hips and thighs with a sigh.

He stepped out of them, turning to face an already-naked Cas. “Oh so that’s how you were keeping the bed warm?”

Cas chuckled and pulled him closer, his blue eyes dark, the storms in them a hurricane and not all lightning. He covered them both with his wings again, leaving a trail of lovebites on Dean’s freckled shoulders, biting hard enough to mark Dean’s skin, while his feathers marked him with his scent. “Mine,” he growled, licking his way up Dean’s collarbone to his jaw, and biting him there lightly, making Dean moan. “My mate. My beloved.”

“Were you jealous, Cas?” Dean teased, leaning his head back to give him more space to nibble.

“You thought they were hot,” Cas snarled from where he was nuzzling behind Dean’s ear, nipping at the lobe and making Dean yip. “And that girl put her hand on you.”

He pulled back, his now navy-blue eyes gazing into lust-darkened green eyes. “You desire  women,” he said with a hint of sadness. He lifted his hands to Dean’s face, and touched the planes of his cheeks preciously with this thumbs He then ran his fingers through the short hair above Dean’s ears, while dropping more kisses on his reddened lips. “I love you, but I know my vessel is not what you want.”

Dean suddenly gripped Cas’s wrists and, with all seriousness, gruffly said,  “Cas, I love pie, but I tell you what, I wouldn't give you up for all he pie in the world. Same goes for girls. Sure I like them, but they’re not you.” He pulled him close and kissed him with all the love and desire had had within, leaving Cas gasping. “Now, are you going to finish what you started, or are you just going to tease me,” he grumbled against his lips, slotting their legs together and rutting against him.

Cas’s wings flared up in a display of his iridescent blue-black coverts, his primaries trembling to show how much he wanted Dean. He wrapped his fist around their dicks, pumping them in unison. Dean moaned into his mouth, and Cas took that breath into himself, as if it were life itself.

“Cas,” Dean whimpered, as Cas sucked on his bottom lip, running his thumb over their heads in a rough circle, holding them up as their cocks rubbed together. He moaned as Cas nipped at his jaw, gasping as he sucked hard behind his ear. 

Unable to take it, Dean suddenly pushed Cas back onto the wide, pine coffee table and watched his wings flutter to try and keep his balance. He looked down at his angel for a moment, spread over the light wood, the firelight flickering over his taut flesh, and throwing shadows onto it. He grinned wolfishly at the site of his angel displayed in front of him. Cas was beautiful, his eyes dark and trusting, his wing tips curled towards Dean. 

He got down on his knees between Cas’s legs took him into his mouth. He rolled his tongue around the head, tasting the angelic precum as he heard Cas moan in response. He licked his cock from base to tip, his tongue making a wide swath over the shaft. He suckled the skin between his balls and his shaft, enjoying the gasp he wrung from his mate.

Cas sat up, his wings still out, to watch Dean blow him. Dean's lips were swollen and red, wrapped around his cock, his green eyes bright in the firelight, yet all lust-blown pupils that stared up at Cas as he hollowed out his cheeks and swallowed Cas down. Unable to help himself, he growled and forced Dean’s arms behind his back, holding them there loosely with one hand. The movement made Dean gasp with surprise. And when Dean stopped and said, “Cas, what are you—” Cas pushed his head back down. “Keep going Dean,” his gravelly voice even lower than usual.

Dean looked at him through his eyelashes, and then bent down to swallow Cas down again, his arms still held behind him by Cas, and Cas’s free hand running through his hair, or rubbing over the back of his neck and shoulders. He hummed over his length, making Cas whisper, "Oh yeah," and he tried not to laugh as Cas glared at him.

Dean could tell that Cas could no longer take it when he pulled Dean up and kissed him hard, the word “Mine” resounding through the bond. Cas rolled Dean on top of the table, changing their positions, and flaring his wings over them again. “Cas,” Dean gasped, as slick fingers probed his hole, and Dean knew that Cas had coated them with wing oil in order to cover him with as much of his scent as possible. His feathers were dripping in it and sweeping over Dean’s body like tiny paint brushes.

“ _Mine,_ ” rumbled through Cas’s chest as he kissed Dean hard and demandingly, and Dean could feel him pressing against him, ready to penetrate, wings over them, trembling.

“ _Yours,_ ” he pushed back into the bond, pulling Cas’s hand over his shoulder where their mark burned between them, snapping it firmly into place as Cas finally pushed in and completed the circuit.

And this is what Dean wanted, needed, the feeling of completion that blazed through them like a lightning strike. It sizzle through his nerves, and he gasped and panted as is sank entirely through him, Cas’s grace like the greatest estim machine ever made. It tingled beneath his flesh, and, even better, he could feel everything Cas did: how warm he felt inside; how Cas loved the pressure that surrounded him; how every breath Dean took made it difficult to concentrate. Dean whined in his throat, and pushed up, trying to fuck himself, but Cas took the hint and started moving, each movement a symphony of receiving/giving, heat/pressure, wet/hard.

Cas kissed him again, each touch of their lips singing with grace, and it crackled around them like static electricity, building as they reached for their climax.

Dean felt Cas was close to coming, his own climax dovetailing with him, sweeping them up in an electrical storm of sweat, heat, grace, and feathers. His wings fluttered behind him as his rhythm became erratic and he groaned, “Dean!” into his mate’s shoulder, taking Dean with him into the vortex of love and expelled heat.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**TRANSLATIONS**

* * *

1 Are you Ukrainian?" up  
2 I am American. My parents were Ukrainian. up  
3 What brings you to Basuki? up  
4 My friend doesn’t speak Russian. I prefer to speak in English. up  
~*~*~*~  
5 kosovorotka: a traditional Russian shirt, long sleeved and reaching down to the mid-thigh up  
~*~*~*~  
6 So handsome! You didn’t tell me they were hot! up  
7 One of them speaks Russian.  
~*~*~*~  
8 Abram! Benedikt! You brothers are nothing but trouble! Why are you taking this outsider to the clinic? We don’t need help from people like him! up


	2. Big Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas do some investigating. Abram and Benny find out. Things are not sorted out, but made a touch more messy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic description of victims' bodies. Remember all the missing people and their relative ages.
> 
> I'm testing out a few things. Please mouse over text to see translation. But, just in case, I put it at the bottom. There is a bigger "bulk" section but fewer words interspersed.
> 
> THIS IS UNBETA'D. I'm a dork.

> _How I love the way you move_  
>  _And the sparkle in your eyes_  
>  _There's a color deep inside them  
>  _ _Like a blue suburban sky_
> 
> _When I come home late at night_  
>  _And you're in bed asleep_  
>  _I wrap my arms around you_  
>  _So I can feel you breathe_
> 
> _I don't need to be a superman_  
>  _As long as, you will always be my biggest fan..._
> 
> _~[Heaven, Warrant](https://youtu.be/rrSdXtFJG20)_

* * *

When Dean woke up, it was darker than before. The fire had burned down to a soft glow and the air seemed a bit chillier. He realized he was in the bed nook, curled in what he hoped was a mojo-cleaned duvet. He took a tentative sniff and smelled nothing but wing oil and himself. Although considering how aggressive Cas had gotten, it was still probably just himself.

He smiled, thinking about his possessive angel, and yawned widely, trying out a stretch. Sure enough, there was just enough room for his head and maybe half an arm stretch. _Good thing I’m not claustrophobic._

He called out in a half yawn, “Cas, baby, you there?”

“I’m warming you some food.”

Dean wandered down the ladder, careful not to snag his bits on the way down. It was a ten-foot gap between the nook and the floor, which, again, was either perfect protection or stupid as hell. But the heat rose and it was toasty near the ceiling, the nook like a small oven. At least he didn't feel like he was about to freeze, even if he was buck naked.

“Cas, where’re my clothes?”

“I folded them on the couch.”

He padded over to the couches, and, yep, there they were. He slid them on, feeling the heat from leaving them in front of the fire so long, and padded into the kitchen.

Cas was struggling with the pans. There were, it seemed, two pans: a very heavy looking cast iron pan that he was waving around like it was Teflon light, and a cheap, severely scratched up Teflon pan that looked like it was going to give its next users cancer.

“Cas, what are you doing?”

Normal bright blue eyes flashed up at him with vague impatience. “ _I’m going to put this pan in the fire and let it heat up and then I’m going to stick your pies in it._ ” He walked around the kitchen bar to where Dean was standing, kissing him lightly. “ _You’re hungry, right?_ ” 

“You spoil me, Cas,” he murmured, watching his angel put the cast iron pan in. “But couldn't you have just mojo’d them warm?”

Cas turned and gave him a look. “ _I’m attempting to not use my grace if possible. What if the demons can sense it? What if the angels come back?_ ” His shoulders tensed and he stared at his hands. “ _I may be at full force, but I’m still not very powerful. If they come again, I don’t think I can protect you._ ”

Dean could sense his anguish through the bond, and walked over to him, hugging him close. “It’s okay. It was just a joke.”

Cas punched him lightly on the chest. “ _It’s not funny. The angels are powerful. They were willing to talk before, but I was warned that may not how it goes next time_.”

Dean pressed a kiss into Cas’s hair. “It’s okay, Cas. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”

Cas snorted. “ _You can’t even figure out this case and you think you can face down angels?_ ”

Dean leaned back, pretending to be affronted. “Hey! I've faced down those dicks before!” He hesitated. “Okay, well, I've faced down your dick brother… Uri-what’s-his-butt… before. I came out okay.”

Cas started chuckling into his shoulder. “ _If he heard you say that, he would not be pleased._ ”

“Only angel I mean to please is you,” Dean said, tipping Cas’s face up to look at him. “We can do this.”

Cas smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “Let’s get you fed,” he muttered, slipping away from Dean to get the pies.

“After that, we’re going into the woods?”

_“We’re going to have to.”_

Dean threw himself onto the couch and watched Cas manhandle the pan in the fireplace without anything to protect his hand. It’s not like he ever really forgot that Cas wasn't human, but more like it was tiny things that made him remember.

Twenty minutes later, they were walking through the darkness of the Alaskan woods, Dean in four layers made of a tshirt, two flannels, and his hoodie. He felt a bit like that kid from A Christmas Story, and if he tried to put on one more layer, he wasn't going to be able to put his arms down. 

He hated the woods at night; he’d take a busy city hunt any day. In cities, there was light, and witnesses. In the wood, there was just darkness and the uneasy feeling that you were being watched. It was especially bad since the moon was nothing more than a thin sliver in the sky, mocking him every time his foot snagged in a root, or a branch slapped him in the face.

“Cas, where are we even headed?”

He pointed the flashlight at Cas, who didn’t even flinch or blink in the sudden light. _“They said that the murders were taking place near the river. It’s going to take us some time to reach it since we’re walking.”_

Dean blew out a sigh that misted and curled around him. “Great. I love this. We need to rent an ATV if we keep this up.”

_“Perhaps the brothers will have one you can borrow?”_

“Aren't they a hoot? Reminds me of me and Sammy, the way they fight.” He slipped a bit on some mud. “Damn it. Ugh! But that reminds me, what happened with the body? Did you get anything?”

Cas carefully stepped over the spot where Dean had slipped and said, “ _I believe he died of a disease, but it wasn't very clear. Again, I was using the bare minimum of grace for that.”_

Something suddenly occurred to Dean. “Dude, what about when we… y’know? You use grace then. Are we sending up signal flares every time?” He colored thinking about Heaven knowing every time they had nookie.

He could hear the amusement in Cas’s voice when he replied, “ _It’s actually very little grace, now that I have more control over it. It feels like more because of our bond.”_

“Ah, uh, okay… uh...any way… the body…?” That was uncomfortable for some reason. _Best just change the topic, Winchester style._

“ _Yes, it was dehydrated, there were signs of extra saliva production, and stress in all the muscle from prolonged tension.”_ He hesitated. “ _If I didn't know Wesen don’t tend to catch human diseases, I would say rabies._ ”

“Are you sure they were Wesen?”

He sensed Cas’s shrug more than see it. “ _I am presuming, based on their affiliation with your friends._ ”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that I know. I mean, there is a bunch of humans mixed in here, so they could be human…”

“ _I don’t think so. It doesn't sound like they’re showing all the symptoms. So, that’s back to ‘I am not sure.’_ ”

Dean chuckled as he ducked a branch. “Cas, you’re going to have to teach me how you do that… how you manage to make things just sound like they’re in quotes.”

“ _If I can, of course I will._ ” Amusement and love pushed through the bond. Dean didn’t even pretend he didn’t like it. It was nice to feel the affection no matter what the circumstances instead of guessing at it. 

They walked on in companionable silence, Dean thinking about what Cas said, until they reached the edge of the river.

“There’s way too much grass and crap here,” Dean grumbled as his foot yet again snagged on something he couldn’t see. The flora was about waist high, and he doubted anyone had been through there in ages. “I think we’re in the wrong spot.”

Cas hummed and asked, “ _Right or left, then? If we go left, we’ll be heading towards where the main river splits. If we go right, we’ll be heading back towards the village._ ”

“I’m gonna say towards the village.”

“Why?”

Dean grinned wolfishly, knowing Cas would be able to see it despite the dim light. “Gut feeling.”

They walked along what looked like an animal trail, with Dean trying to ignore the breeze that had stirred up and was making the tip of his nose and fingers numb. He could keep one hand in his hoodie, but he was out of luck with his flashlight-holding hand. He looked back at Cas, and all he could see was the gleam of bright blue eyes and his silhouette. Envy spiked through him, and he wished foolishly and briefly that he could see in the dark and not be affected by the cold.

“Dean,” he suddenly heard, “Over there… I think that’s…”

“Yeah, I see it.”

In the tiny clearing, a small dark, wet glow was evident in the very sketchy moonlight. Then the tang of blood struck his nose, and he tried not to gag as the stench of torn intestines wafted to him. They carefully walked to the spot, and Dean tried not to throw up. He was used to seeing horrors, hell, he’d been trained to face them head on, but very few got to him as much as the murder of children.

Bending to look at the body, he recognized the tiny torso as a toddler’s, the clothes ripped off, the bowels torn into. He didn’t know whether to be thankful that her head was missing, or be sick over the small pink pony still tightly clutched in her baby hand.

“I guess we’ve found Arina.” A sad, sorrowful expression passed over of his face, and he felt the loss like it was his own. “God, she’s just a baby…” he breathed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He pulled down and gripped the edges of his mouth. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, pointing the flashlight at the body’s decay and checking how old the blood was. “She looks likes she’s been dead for a couple of days. I guess whoever's doing this ain’t keeping them alive for long.”

“Dean,” Cas put his hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Dean looked up and Cas pointed a bit further in, near the small indention in the hillside, a few large stones piled beneath it. He beamed his flashlight at them and, strewn among them, were some more torsos, also shredded, heads and limbs missing. 

“Cas, give me a minute.” Sticking the flashlight between his teeth, he took off his hoodie and pulled off one of his flannels, covering the child respectfully. “I can’t just leave her like that.” He said, after putting on the hoodie again, and regaining his grip on the flashlight.

Cas nodded and waited until Dean was ready. Biting his lips and trying to hold it together, Dean walked over to the other dead, counting three more bodies, one of them distressingly fresh. “Aw, fuck,” he muttered, bending to get a closer look. The woman had to be reasonably young, her dress a cheerful yellow. A bright blue pendant with some saint on it glowed on her chest, and he removed it carefully, for identification. Like the others, she was headless and her intestines had been pulled from their cavity, some of them chewed. The black gleam of venous blood that had pooled in the disgusting, gaping hole was speckled with what looked like tiny bubbles of spittle, and a thin layer of dirt and pine needles. Her neck looked like the bones had been crushed and ripped, like a bear had gotten behind her and ripped it off her head from her shoulders. 

“She’s only been dead for a couple of hours,” Cas said helpfully.

“Yeah, I know. She must’ve been taken while I was sleeping.” He gripped the pendant until it bit into his palm. “Damn it! I should have just come into the woods immediately!”

“ _Even so, it doesn’t mean you would have saved her_ ,” Cas said soothingly.

But Dean didn’t want to be soothed. He stuck the pendant in his pocket. “Doesn’t matter. It’s my job.”

He looked over at the others, and counted more more torn up torsos and mismatched limbs.

“Seems like we have some of those missing people here.” He scowled at the heap, and, eyeballing a male corpse that was relatively fresh, stared at the stump where its head used to be. “Cas, I’m thinking it had to be Wesen to do this.” 

He pointed at the two lines that were torn across what would have been the bottom of the victim’s throat. “Those look like claw marks here in front.” He pointed at the rough, torn flesh left at the back of the neck. “But I think this guy's head was torn off after the initial blow... unlike that woman's head... it looks like something attacked her from behind and bit through her spine and _then_  ripped off her head. That takes more than human strength to do that. Human jaws just can't do that.” He eyed the edges of the abdomen. “An these have been clawed at, possibly chewed…. well, look at edges here. And there’s not a lot of blood, which may be good for the victim, because that means they were probably dead when they were eviscerated.”

He moved back to the fresh body, picking up a long stick along the way, bending down to look into her abdomen. “Yeah, look. The edges don’t look like they bled much. Most of the blood pooling in there drained in after she was dead. Whatever’s killing them is doing it elsewhere and then ripping them apart somewhere else.” He peered under the body, crouching down with the flashlight. “There’s not a lot of blood under her. Definitely killed somewhere else. I guess what we’ve found is a dumpsite.”

He huffed out a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face. “I hate this part,” he rasped out, awkwardly standing. “Ugh, give me a straight fight any day.”

_“You seem to be very good at this, Dean.”_

Dean laughed without humor. “That would be the Winchester training. I guess I should be lucky I didn’t get the Men of Letters Legacy. Sam can take that, for all I care.”

_“Men of Letters?”_

“Don’t worry about it.” He scanned the area a bit more and sighed again, ignoring the stench. “Okay, I’m thinking we can either follow the trail as it leads into the village, or we can go home.”

_“I’m amenable to either.”_

Dean flipped his hood up and chuckled, “I bet you are. C’mon. Let’s see what’s at the end of this rainbow.”

_“Rainbow? But Dean there’s no —”_

“It’s a saying, Cas.” He motioned impatiently. “C’mon!”

They followed the path, which was pretty evident; it looked like their Wesen friend had partially dragged the bodies to the dumpsite. “How far are we from the cabin now?”

Cas looked back. _“Approximately a mile. We are approximately a mile northwest of the restaurant._ ”

“Okay, so, we are basically in the village?”

_“I believe that’s the house where the child was taken from?”_

“Ah.” Dean looked, and the house was covered in candles. “I bet.”

Cas nodded. “ _They are praying hard. It’s difficult to ignore.”_

_“Huh. I thought that wasn't your job?”_

Cas threw him a bitch look that’d make Sam jealous. _“I’m still an angel, Dean. If I turned it off completely, well, it’d be like your being locked in a lightless room. Angels aren’t meant to live in solitude.”_

“I did not know that.” Dean looked off to his left. “Hey, what about that house over there? The one with the candles just in the window?”

_“What about it?”_

“I think that’s where the sick people are. Can you check?”

_“If you mean walk over there and check it out, yes.”_

Dean grinned. “Ah ha ha. Sorry. I need to head to the doctor’s house and I think it’s on the other side. I wanted to kill two birds with one stone.”

_“Very well, I’ll attend to it as long as you promise not to kill any birds.”_

Dean rolled his eyes and didn't even bother, shearing off to the right to cross the road towards the doctor’s house. He was glad Benny was naturally friendly and just pointed out everyone’s home as they passed it on their way to drop him off.

The doctor’s home was as traditional as much as the clinic stood out. It was made of wood slats, much like most of the houses in the village, and painted a very bright white with bright blue and red touches around the carved window panes. There was a large flower garden in the front and, he bet, a large vegetable garden in the back. The house, like most of the others, also sat on top of a stone base that required a porch and steps to get up to the door.

When he walked up the steps, he noted these steps were steady and weren’t about to let him fall straight through like the place where they were staying. The door, he discovered, was open, and he walked in with no difficulty.

The stench of illness hung heavy in the air and he wished he had something to cover his nose with. He compromised by breathing through his mouth and kept moving.

The doctor’s office was obviously set off to the right. Bookshelves dominated the walls, except for the huge bay window behind the desk that would have looked out into the garden, but they were shuttered closed. The desk was small and covered with books. He eyed the pile wearily. “Ugh, research…” he muttered.

He sat his ass down in the pretty comfortable chair and started flipping through the doctor’s notes.

* * *

> _“...still feels like the flu. I cannot determine what the issue is; however, woging has actually escalated the hallucinations and paranoia. Recently, vague symptoms of hydrophobia seem to be setting in, but those it is unrealistic to imagine it’s rabies. It did not show up under the FAT test that I requested from Anchorage.”_
> 
> _“...and I bit Katia today. My mind has been growing weaker. My bouts of confusion and paranoia have grown longer, and, I fear I have woged and done something dreadful… there has been talk of missing people… but the FAT tests… it didn’t bind to the antibody. What is this?_
> 
> _“...mind...going. Send… samples… when dead…”_

* * *

Dean frowned and shook his head. “Yeah, that’s not creepy.” He whispered into the dark. He looked over the piles and found more books on virology, viruses and something called rhabdoviruses.

“So the doc thought it was a virus, but it affected him more as a Wesen..?” Dean sat back and turned off the flashlight for a moment, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “What the hell is this?”

He blew out an exhausted sigh and, flipping the flashlight on again, carefully checked the other rooms.

In the bedroom, he paused because the stench of sickness and death lingered there, even if the bed had been stripped of its linens. The bed was an old fashioned four-poster bed, and there were several pairs of leather restraints tied to the bed, which made Dean whistle and mutter, “Kinky doctor sex in the house!”

Then he realized there was something wrong with them and bent to look: they were snapped. There were a dozen or so sets of restraints and every single one of them had been snapped. He looked at the headboard, and the bedposts had been worn down until they had snapped. Whatever had done this was strong, and probably out of control. He walked over to the bedpost, just to check and make sure it was really worn down, and it was indeed snapped. He heard a slight jingle as he shifted his foot when he bent to investigate the post, and stood up to beam the light under the bed. A silver gleam made him crouch and look, and, sure enough, three pairs of barely recognizable handcuffs had been dropped and stuffed under the bed, blood all over them. Suddenly wary, Dean pressed his lips together at what he had found and quietly stood and went to check the rest of the house.

Nothing. The house was deathly quiet and he found nothing else.

_If the doc thought it was somehow viral, I wonder who was taking care of his wife? I bet it’s the two new sick ones._

He carefully stepped out onto the porch, when a voice said, “So, Dean, who are you really?” Dean was extremely proud of himself when he only tensed at being found out.

_Aw, shit._

He fixed a grin onto his face and slowly turned around. “Ah, Abram! Look at that! Did you get lost too?” He pretended to look at his wrist. “Wow, so late too! Whew! I don’t even know what Cas is gonna think!”

“I am guessing we will find out, since my brother found him at the Polzin house. He is bringing him here.” He waved his cell phone at Dean. 

_Aw… **sonovabitch**! _

“ _Cas, you okay?_ ”

“ _Assuredly. Benny is a gentleman, even if his palms are very rough._ ”

Dean held in a groan. “ _And you couldn’t have warned me?_ ”

“ _I suspect this is an opportune time to, as you say, come clean with the brothers._ ”

 _Double shit_.

He looked at Abram and smiled wanly. “Ah, look, um, Abram. It’s not what you think. I didn’t steal anything. I just wanted to look around a bit.”

Abram narrowed his gaze suspiciously. “And? What did you find?”

Dean frowned and got serious for a moment. “I need to know who took care of the doc’s wife.”

Abram’s dark, shaggy eyebrows shot up. “Why?”

Dean nodded and he said with certainty, “They’re the two who are sick, right?”

Abram didn’t reply but he tensed all over. It was all the confirmation he needed.

“Abram, this is important… who’s staying with them?”

Abram looked conflicted, and Dean blew out an aggravated sigh. “Look, are they Wesen?”

Slate gray eyes darkened with the word, and he immediately went blank. “What is Wesen?”

Dean rubbed his hands through his hair. “Seriously? Look, Abram, this is serious. Someone else was killed —”

“How do you know that?” Abram asked sharply, woging in his agitation.

Dean put his hand to hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes, and rubbing it with his fingers. And gave up. “I need you to not freak out,” he said, putting out his hands beseechingly, still looking down. “I seriously do not need you to freak out. Please tell me you’ll try and not freak out because I’m just me, okay? Same guy you hung out with. Same dude you teased about his boyfriend.”

“How do you know?” Abram insisted, snarling while his fur bristled.

Sighing and rolling his eyes upwards, he asked Cas, _“Are you prepared to rescue me if Abram freaks the fuck out?”_

_“I will do it no matter what. But perhaps you should have faith in your friends?”_

_“You know I just met them. Shit, I think this will be okay but… “_

_“I’ll save you,”_ Cas reassured him.

_“Good, because I really don’t want to kill him here on the doc’s porch. I don’t think that’s the best way to prove I’m harmless. Plus I like him. I don’t want it to come down to that.”_

Heaving a bracing breath, Dean moved his hand and looked into Abram’s eyes, his hand still out, pleadingly. “Because I can see you.”

He watched the emotions tumble over Abram’s face like a slow animation booklet: surprise, disbelief, horror, anger, and finally terror and aggressiveness set in as he growled, “ **GRIMM!** ”

Dean rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, well, in training. I’m not much of one yet.” He gestured between them. “I mean, if I were a _good_ Grimm, I sure as hell wouldn’t have been caught this easily. My dad sure as hell wouldn’t have been caught this easily.”  _Plus he'd have killed you instantly._ _  
_

Abram kept his fangs bared. “Why are you here? To kill us all?”

“What? No! Why would I…?” Dean groaned and rubbed the back of his neck, coughing lightly. “We might have lied before about why we were here, but… the truth is me and Cas are on the run from a lot of people trying to kill me and capture Cas.”

“Why?”

Dean shot a “what the fuck” face at him. “What do you mean, ‘why’? You mean, why do they want to kill me, or why do they want to capture Cas?”

“Let’s start with you, Grimm.” Dean looked over and Cas was casually walking alongside Benny, looking ultimately unconcerned. Dean felt that faint arrow of envy die in the giant bonfire of bad-assedness that was Cas. There was literally nothing the Drang-Zorn could do to hurt him, and Drang-Zorn were known as extremely powerful Wesen, even if up against a Blutbad. If that wasn’t just off the charts hot, he didn’t know what was.

“Dean, they are talking to you.” Blue eyes glowed faintly with amusement, and Dean snapped his attention back to Benny. “Wut?”

Benny eyed him for a moment and started chuckling. “Look at him, Abram! He’s so wrapped up in this one, he cannot even think straight.” He knocked Cas with his shoulder, and, thankfully, Cas just went with it, allowing himself to be budged.

Abram was also looking at him with great amusement, and he felt heat flood his face uncomfortably. “Can — um — can we just go somewhere else? I’ll tell you everything I know. If we stay out here too much longer, everyone will come out to look.”

Abram woged back and nodded slowly. “I will hear this story, if it is the truth.”

Benny and Cas just followed along and, in fifteen minutes, they were in the brothers’ shared house. “We built it ourselves,” Benny grinned after letting them in. He stroked the mantle lovingly. “When one of us finally take a bride, the other will move out and we will both build a new house for him and his bride.”

The house looked to be a good size, at least two stories. Everything was made of wood and upholstered with leather, a good choice for cleaning up. It was all done in natural shades and it was quite pleasant, if a tad dull. Dean supposed that they wanted the women to choose the shades for their den.

Abram grinned. “But you have your bride right here, don’t you?”

Cas smiled back while that damned heat surged up Dean’s face again. “Can we just get down to business?”

Abram motioned for them to sit on the couch, a large leather thing that was, aside from the TV, the most modern thing in the the living room. Dean sat on the end, while Cas settled next to him, Abram and Benny took chairs from their dining area to sit in front of them. “Well?”

Dean coughed and slowly gave an abbreviated version of the road so far, just making Cas out to be a special and rare Wesen wanted for research purposes. “Y’know,” he said, “like a pokémon?”

The blank stares he got for that made him just steamroll ahead. “Anyway, Cas thought we would be safe here, until he got wind of a case from the general store guy.”

“That’ll be George then,” Benny said, sitting back in his chair. “So you did not come here to investigate, but since you are here, you are... But…” He woged and Dean worked at not ducking his eyes, staring back at him. Benny shuddered and turned away, repulsed. “You are a _Grimm_.”

Dean shrugged. “In training. It wasn’t until recently that Wesen started to notice my eyes.” A quick look at Abram and he saw a mirrored reaction of revulsion. “Hey, I’m still the same guy! Swear! I’m not here to kill all of you. I’m just here to find out who’s killing everyone!” He frowned deeply. “I mean, I don’t want to be that kind of Grimm.”

He suddenly recalled the latest victim, and stuck his hand in his pocket, pulling out her necklace. “Actually, I just took this off the last body we saw.”

Dual incredulous looks latched onto the pendant, and, with a shaky, breathless voice, Abram asked, “Where did you find this?”

Cas said, “We located many bodies at a site approximately two miles southeast of here.”

“Many?” Benny’s gray eyes were a much lighter than Abram’s more ice than dark stormy sky, and right now, cutting. “How many is ’many’?”

“I counted six.” He handed Abram the pendant, and he took it with a trembling hand.

“Oh, Ina,” he whispered, looking horrified. “She was human, not Wesen. Not even a Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen.”

Benny crossed himself and said a short prayer, and added, “She had just turned nineteen. She was going to go to college in Anchorage at the end of this month.”

At Dean’s surprised look, Abram huffed, “We are traditionalists, not barbarians. If someone wants to go to college, then it is up to them to find the way.”

“Ah, right.” Dean flustered. “Tomorrow morning, you need to take people to the spot and gather the bodies before the wildlife really gets to them. Especially that little girl.”

Twin pale faces stared at him owlishly and he sighed. “I’m sorry, the little girl is dead, and her body should not be seen by her family. It would only cause them unnecessary anguish.”

“That bad,” Abram whispered brokenheartedly.

Benny eyed Dean and asked sharply, “How old are you, anyway? You look awfully young to know how to do all this.”

Dean repressed his urge to laugh hysterically. “I’m eighteen, and don’t worry about it. I’ve been doing this since I was four. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Seeking out the dead and creeping into houses?” The brothers exchanged looks. Benny leaned forward and said, “That does not sound like much of a life.”

Dean hitched a smile on. “Maybe not, but it’s mine.”

Cas reached over and took his hand, slotting their fingers together. Dean squeezed it in understanding.

“And you, rare Wesen? How old are you?”

“Quite a bit younger than time and space, but older than humanity,” Cas replied blithely.

Dean resisted the urge to slap a hand to his face and pull down, and awkwardly chuckled. “He’s sensitive about his age since he’s a bit older than me.”

“I see.” They seemed to just accept it, when Benny again woged in front of them, shuddering when he met Dean’s eyes, but looking to Cas for his woge.

“Why don’t you woge,” he asked, eyeing him skeptically.

Cas shrugged, and his wings popped out and flared. “My woge is not like that,” he said.

“Duh, rare Wesen.” Dean muttered, not liking this. They were very religious; this could be an extremely bad idea.

But the brothers didn’t hear him and Abram said with wonder, “Are you an angel?”

Dean started laughing, hoping the slight hysterical edge would be ignored. Cas took his cue from him and also lightly laughed. Dean replied more sharply than he intended, “Why would we be here, on the run, if he were an angel?”

At his words, Cas shrugged, putting away his wings. His hand was slightly cold in Dean’s hand, but he felt warm and comfortable through the bond. Obviously, the angel had judged these two to be okay with at least an abbreviated version of his secret.

Benny woged back, looking awed, but satisfied. “I don’t know. But those are fantastic. I’ve never heard of a winged Wesen.”

“Yeah, well, more things in heaven and earth, blah blah blah.” He ignored the side-eye Cas gave him. _Yeah, I read! It was assigned in high school, for fuck’s sake._

He sat forward a tad. “Now, look. I don’t want to be involved with the bodies. I don’t think a stranger running into them is going to look too good to the locals. We’ll tell you where to find them, and then you two can lead a party to collect them.”

He released Cas’s hand and braced his elbows on his knees, leaning forward in work mode, kneading his palms slightly with his thumbs, and thinning his lips. “Now, I need to know… who else is sick?”

“What?”

“According to the doc’s notes, the disease is viral. That means there are a lot of ways to get sick.” He shook his head. “You guys are keeping the sick in closed rooms. If it’s like the flu, it probably concentrates it in one spot. You should open the windows and air them out.”

The men traded looks again, and Dean zeroed in on it. “What? You two, uh, just shared a look. What am I missing?”

Benny nibbled on the edge of his mustache nervously. “Nothing, perhaps. We aren't sure.”

“About..?”

Abram blew out a sigh. “The whole village has been walking in and out of the sick rooms to visit and pray.”

“Well, that’s great. Just great.” Dean threw himself back onto the couch, his hands up in the air. “So, potentially, the whole village could be sick.”

“Dean, what else did the doctor say? I mean, I thought it might be rabies…” Cas  patted his knee companionably.

Dean shook his head. “Doc said he sent samples to get tested. The… I don’t know? Fat test? Something? Whatever… he said it was negative.”

Cas frowned. “So not rabies.”

Abram said, “What’s this about rabies?”

Dean huffed out, “Cas was telling me rabies makes you dehydrate, and you have flu-like symptoms, along with hallucinations and paranoia. It also makes you violent before you fall into a coma. The doctor thought it was the virus making him sick, but, according to the tests, it’s not.”

“What is it then?”

Dean shot a look at Benny. “That’s question, ain’t it? I read the doc’s notes and he said it was actually worse when he woged. That he was afraid he was getting violent…”

Benny breathed out, “The first victim… she was bitten and torn to shreds…”

“...right around the time Doctor Lilov was sick.” Abram finished, looking horrified.

“Remember how Karp complained of finding Katia down by the river, naked once. That she didn’t remember going there, not that it mattered because she was raving madly?”

Abram shook his head. “She wasn’t covered in blood.”

Benny pointed his finger at him. “But what if she was, and he just assumed she had killed an animal or something? Until the body showed up?”

Abram refused to accept it, sitting straighter and crossing his arms. “No, Karp wouldn't cover for her. He would have reported it to the Cete.”

Benny laughed darkly. “Are you sure? He had a crush on her, y’know? He hated she married the doctor, a man twenty years her senior.”

“But what about Lilya,” Abram argued. “She must’ve known.”

“Maybe not,” Dean interjected. “Maybe he never told her.”

“What about Daniil?” They looked over at Cas, almost in surprise, since he had been so quiet during the discussion. “You said he died in pain?”

Abram nodded. “Daniil died after the doctor, but he was too weak to leave his bed. He had already suffered with the cancer, and then this illness took him. His body tightened entirely and he started refusing to drink anything. Eventually, he could neither breathe nor move. The light just faded from his eyes. He only survived the doctor by perhaps a couple of hours.” 

“So, the doc was still himself, while this… Danny guy was too sick to even move.” Dean’s eyes darted between the brothers. “That means he was unlikely to have killed anyone, if he couldn't move.”

“Even with the madness,” Cas added. “Remember, they suffered from paranoia and hallucinations.”

"But it doesn't seem like it affected them not woged as it did when they were woged. I wonder what they looked like woged?"

Benny groaned and dropped his head into his palms. “This is ridiculous. We must report this to the Cete.”

Abram got a concerned look in his eye and he said to Benny, “Я не думаю, что Николай хорошо воспримет это. Мы отправили новых больных в Сетт. Что он скажет, когда мы ему расскажем, что мы укрываем убийц."

"Они не убийцы. Они больны. Возможно, он  неправ?  И еще как мы скажем Николаю, что он  Гримм. Николай помнит Гриммов со Старой Родины, и я сомневаюсь, что ему это понравится."

"Это не имеет значения. Ситуация достаточно тяжелая, так что нам нужна помощь Дина. Если то, что он говорит это правда и вирус убивает не только Обновлённых,но и безумные Обновлённые убивают людей … Бенни, мы сейчас идем по краю пропасти. Гриммы возможно должны были убить Гренохватов, чтобы спасти деревню. Мы даже не знаем,проинформировал ли Николай Совет Обновлённых насчет заболевания, и он точно сделает это, если узнает, что люди погибли."

“Guys,” Dean interrupted. “Over here. Can’t Russian. English please.”

In actual fact, Cas had been translating it for him, but Dean didn’t want them to think they could get one over on him.

Two sets of gray eyes snapped onto him, and Abram, swallowed hard. “We definitely have to tell Nikolai. About… your theory and the fact you’re a Grimm.”

“The thing is… Nikolai’s family is from the Ukrainian/Russian border. There was a lot of fighting between bordering Cete and eventually a squad of Grimms were sent out to stop the local Wesen war from spreading out even further.”

“They killed his grandparents and older brother, and he and his parents barely escaped with their lives.” Abram looked over at Benny for confirmation. “He is not going to be as... accepting, let’s say, of a Grimm in our midst.”

“But you’re saying we have to tell him?”

“He is the village leader and the head Drang-Zorn of the Cete. We can’t do anything without his approval or the others will tell him any way.”

“And that’ll be worse,” Benny added. “Because he’ll be even angrier that we went over his head and invited you into the Cete.” He shook his head. “Sorry, brother. This affects our lives too much. He could kill us or even exile us.”

Dean sat back and considered the options. He wasn’t sure what a Sett was, but with what he knew about a bunch of badgers (that’s a Cete, he remembered), he’d bet it was their underground den. He did know that a group of Eisbibers kept Lodges, like regular beavers did, so it was probably the same deal. But Drang-Zorn… badgers were troublesome. They were hard to control at the best of times, short tempered and prone to a violent response, and he had been more than a little surprised Abram and Benny had kept their cool about him. _Either that or my face is downright embarrassing when it comes to Cas._

He _wasn't_ going to think about that.

What he was going to think about was how to convince the Cete leader. He wished he could have called Bobby for advice, because this was above his pay grade. He looked over at Cas, who looked comfortable just believing in him, and he tried not to groan at the look of pure trust. _**So** above my pay grade. How am I supposed to solve this? Ugh, but I need inside the Sett, and that means I need the head Drang-Zorn’s permission. Fine._

“Alright, well, let’s do this. You two bring him here, but don’t tell him exactly what we think is going on. We’ll all talk when he gets here. Okay?”

The two men nodded and stood, stretching out their muscles. Benny gave Dean and Cas a suspicious look and pointed at them. “Do not make out on our furniture. We haven’t even done that yet.”

Dean threw his hands up in surrender while Cas just looked confused. Benny pointed again at Dean, and they all ignored the knowing grin on Abram’s face as he walked out the door.

As Benny stepped out, Dean rolled his eyes at the yelled, “Seriously, no kissing on my couch!”

If this was having an older brother was like, it was just as well he didn't have one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION: “I don’t think Nikolai is going to take this very well. We’ve been putting some of the newly sick into the Sett. What will he say when we tell him that we are harboring murderers?” 
> 
> “They’re not murderers. They are sick. Perhaps he (Dean) is wrong? And that’s another thing. How are we going to tell him (Nikolai) that he (Dean) is a Grimm? Nikolai remembers Grimms from the Old Country (Russia) and I doubt he’s going to like this.” 
> 
> “It doesn’t matter. The situation is grave enough that we need him (Dean) to help us. If what he (Dean) says is true and the virus is killing not only Wesen, but those same Wesen are killing Kehrseite in their madness… Benny, we are treading a thin line here. The Grimm may have to kill some Drang-Zorn to save the village. We don’t even know if Nikolai has informed the Wesen Council about the illness, and he will have to once it’s known Kehrseite have died.”  
> \------------------------------------------------  
> There is one more chapter.


	3. Who is the White-faced Bear?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas make a journey to Port Graham. It's _really_ cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been written forever. Sadly it's NECESSARY to events in My Keeper, and why I wrote this time stamp to begin with.
> 
> Um, I'm also sorry it took me so long to update. I suck. I apologize. 
> 
> There are probably two more chapters to this. MAYBE just one, but I suspect two.

As soon as the door closed, Dean said, “I think we need to get to Homer and get Daniil’s chart.”

 

Cerulean eyes rounded with surprise. “Do we?”

 

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed.  “We think Daniil is patient zero, but we don’t know how _he_ caught it. If he was that sick before going to Homer, I doubt he just wandered around and found it.”

 

Cas nodded. “You have a point. Shall I fly us?”

 

“What happened to flying under the radar?” Dean asked with a chuckle.

 

“Hm, well, if I go by myself it would be better, but I’m not sure what to look for.”

 

“This all started when he got that transplant, so maybe we need to track the donor down?” He threw his arms up. “I really don’t know. This is not something I’m used to! Usually dad or Bobby have my back, and I just tag along!”

 

He threw himself backwards against the couch and slapped his hands over his face, grunting out his frustration, and rubbing his eyes. He then pulled them down to cover his mouth, rubbing his mouth with the palm of his hand.

 

“What the hell am I playing at,” he murmured.

 

Cas’s hand reached out and grasped his tightly. “You’re doing your best, Dean. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m sure they’d be proud of you.”

 

A brittle laugh burst from Dean. “Bobby, maybe,” he snorted. “I don’t even remember my dad saying anything close to that.”

 

Dean sighed again. “Can...can you do that for me, Cas? Pop over to the hospital in Homer and find the transplant list?”

 

Cas nodded, but also leaned in and dropped a soft, chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. “I am proud of you,” he said softly, making sure he caught Dean’s eyes.

 

Dean felt the flood of relief and odd anguish that welled up in him at being recognized, and squirmed at how uncomfortable and at odds it felt.

 

“Just go,” he muttered, pushing at Cas’s shoulder, and coloring prettily to his ear tips.

 

Cas grinned and disappeared. Dean blew out a relieved huff. _Damn angel, making me feel stuff._

 

He still ended up humming AC/DC while he waited, a small smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly twenty minutes later that he heard loud, Russian arguing outside the house. He had picked up a fishing magazine that the guys had lying about, and reading about fishing in the Anchor River. He had never tried fly fishing, and he was curious about it.

 

The arguing got louder, and there was finally a boomed, “ENOUGH!”

 

_Oh, you tell them Abram!_

 

Cas hadn’t returned yet, so he wasn’t sure what that meant. Cas wasn’t used to be on his own, period. He had learned recently about reading, and he read so quickly he was going to give Sam a run for his money soon. They hadn’t had any TVs around to make him catch up with cultural references. Maybe their next stop?

 

The door banged open, and the guy with dirty-blond hair and ridiculous goatee walked into the room, his baby-blue flannel pajamas stuffed ingloriously into his wellingtons, a brown fur cap pulled roughly over his head. “You,” he said, catching sight of Dean, his Russian accent more obvious than before in his sleepy agitation. “It is _you_ who has caused all this trouble!”

 

Dean just sat there and waited. Nikolai turned on the brothers and let off another stream of what sounded like rather impolite Russian, which made Benny go beet red in suppressed anger, even with Abram’s hand on his arm, holding him back.

 

It is at that point Cas reappeared in the doorway, for which Dean is grateful, because god knows how he was going to explain an apparating Wesen. That wasn’t supposed to be possible.

 

Cas listened to the Russian exchange for a brief moment before storms rolled into his darkening blue eyes, and Dean _knew_ all sorts of bad things were indeed being said, because Cas looked on the verge of smiting Nikolai, and the scent of ozone suddenly got thick in the air.

 

“ _Cas, keep it together.”_

 

Frustration and anger rolled through the bond, and Cas hissed, _“He is calling you several unsavory names and attempting to blame you for the current chaos.”_

 

“ _I’m not surprised_.”

 

He finally strolled over and poked Nikolai in the middle of his back with a super stiff finger.

 

“Hey!” He yelled.

 

Nikolai reared around, woging in the process, only to look Dean in the eyes and fall back in shock.

 

“No…” he whimpered, his face pure fear and shock. “A **_Grimm_**. He will kill us _all_!”

 

Dean smiled and put his hands up in surrender. “I’m just trying to help you, buddy.”

 

Nikolai puffed up and bared his fangs. “ _I’ll **kill** you!!” _

He snarled, trying to leap forward to attack, claws out. Dean stepped backwards out of range, while Cas stepped between them, and Abram and Benny caught him before he could get far.

 

“Nikolai! Stop it! The Grimm has been trying to **help** us!” Abram roared, trying to keep his grip on Nikolai’s flailing form.

 

“You fool! If you anger him, he will then surely kill us all!” Benny snarled, and then howling slightly when Nikolai bit him on the hand in his attempt to get free. They had both woged to keep up with Nikolai’s enraged strength, and it was becoming a bit of a struggle.

 

“Nikolai, we must let him into the Sett! See reason!”

 

Cas suddenly said, “I believe I have some pertinent information.”

 

Dean sighed as the brothers tried to wrestle Nikolai to the ground. It looked like it was going to take a while, since they were trying not to hurt Nikolai, and Nikolai had apparently decided he was going down like a cornered badger. 

 

Unwilling to get in the middle of the fight, Dean turned to Cas for the paperwork he'd hopefully pilfered. 

 

“Hit me with it, Cas.”

 

He gasped as a sheaf of papers hit him in the chest and glared at Cas. “You really need to stop taking things literally.”

 

Cas smiled sweetly, and Dean grumbled as he flipped through the documents. “Hmm… it looks like his donor is from a place called Birloga.”

 

The three struggling men stopped and stared at them.

 

“Birloga?” Nikolai hissed.  “ _Birloga_? Those filthy, roaming beasts? _That_ is where Daniil got his organ? No wonder the man died!”

 

Even Abram snarled, “Birloga? Those creatures should not be donating anything. They are cursed!” and Benny spat to the side.

 

Both Dean and Cas were taken aback the united disgust. “Uh, Birloga is..?”

 

Abram woged said, “Birloga is the clan name of the [Охотник](http://ru.grimm.wikia.com/wiki/%D0%9E%D1%85%D0%BE%D1%82%D0%BD%D0%B8%D0%BA) scum. You’d call them Jägerbar. They have no official home, and are forced to wander. They are a small tribe of violent, native people who hate us.”

 

“Jägerbar are very dangerous Wesen,” Dean conceded slowly. “But I don’t see the problem?”

 

Benny also woged and sighed. “It is not entirely their fault.”

 

Abram opened his mouth and Benny forestalled him.

 

“No, brother. Truly it is not entirely their fault. Our ancestors laid claim to this piece of land and drove them out, although it is in their migration path.” Ice gray eyes looked to Dean. “The Birloga are a wandering band of native Jägerbar, and it is because they have no set home that they themselves are called Birloga.”

 

He shrugged. “That is a Ninlchik word for ‘den’ that they took on. When we Russians came in the 17th Century, we took too much game, we made them leave this lands, something that Jägerbar hate to do because of their ancestor worship.”

 

Benny snorted with derision, “They worship false gods and practice heathen religion. We cannot tolerate them.”

 

“I do not even think they are properly Jägerbar, though,” Abram added. “They do not claim to be. We call them that because we do not know what else to call them. They do not just become black or brown bears, but Kodiak bears.”

 

“Bah! Who cares?” Nikolai spat. “They cannot compare to us. That is why we are here, and they are цыгане. The strong win.”

 

Benny kicked Nikolai with his still-booted foot, leaving a muddy print on the pajama pants. “You ass. The strong do not always win. One virus and we are laid low. What if this is God’s punishment for our arrogance.”

 

Dean slid his gaze over to Cas, who just kept impassively watching them.

 

Abram smacked his brother’s arm. “Hush, man! What if that is why He brought His wrath upon us?” He booted Nikolai from the other side, causing the man to wince and snap at his leg. “Nikolai. Tomorrow the Grimm will come with us into the Sett. Let him see. He has already figured out more in one day than we have in a month.”

 

“He is a **_Grimm_** ,” Nikolai hissed, his still woged facial features set into aggressive lines, with small amounts of spittle collecting in the corner of his mouth. “He will bring us **_all_** to damnation.”

 

Cas chuckled and the Drang-Zorn all stared at him.

 

“Hardly,” he said. “Damnation is a personal thing. You will bring yourself to damnation, not Dean.”

 

The brothers, knowing what Cas was, exchanged looks. Nikolai continued to thrash, until Dean said, “Cas, knock him out.”

 

The brothers started and moved to stop Cas, but he just crouched down and touched Nikolai’s leg and he fell over, asleep. As he did so, he automatically woged back, the ugly goatee back in place, his face still red, and spittle still collected at the corners of his mouth.

 

Cas frowned and leaned forward to touch Nikolai’s head. He squinted at the passed out man, tilting his head, and Dean was suddenly worried. “ _What’s up?_ ”

 

“He seems to have a virus,” Cas said calmly, ignoring the paling of faces around him. “But… it’s just like the flu now. When he was woged, it was different. Stronger.”

 

Dean bent down and looked over Nikolai’s flushed face. He was dewed with sweat, and he looked a bit sickly. “Aw, shit. Are we too late?”

 

Cas shook his head. “I’m uncertain what he has. Perhaps we should take him back to his house and tomorrow, we will find these Birloga and talk to them?”

 

Dean stood up, stretching. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’m tired. Let’s get him home, and then I can read these notes later.”

 

Abram and Benny exchanged worried looks again and Benny said, “Um, he has bitten me. Will this be a problem?”

 

 _Oh, yeah. That happened._ Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth, popping it off sharply.

 

“I honestly don’t know, man. We need to figure out what this is, first? I mean, I’ve never heard of Wesen-specific rabies, and that’s sort of what this is looking like.” He pointed at Nikolai. “He’s not showing as many signs as he did as a Wesen, Cas said, and the fact is the doctor _also_ reported he didn’t show as many symptoms unless he was woged. It just looked like the flu until it killed him.”

 

He chewed on his bottom lip. “Fuck, I’ll call Bobby in the morning. He might know, because I sure as hell can’t call dad.”

 

Cas reached over and slipped a hand into his, and Dean squeezed it, showing he appreciated the gesture.

 

“Let’s leave Nikolai here,” Benny suddenly said, motioning to Abram to pick up Nikolai’s legs. “He’ll wake up in a foul mood, no doubt. But if he’s sickening like the others…”

 

“Perhaps we should take him down to the Sett?”

 

“Do you really think that’ll help him? Let’s have Dean figure this out first.”

 

Abram nodded. “You make a good point. But if it is rabies, will it be curable?”

 

Dean said, “I honestly don’t know. I don’t have my research team with me, and if Cas doesn’t know…” Cas shook his head. “...then I will have to call for backup.”

 

Moving Nikolai became the first logistical issue, because Nikolai was not a small man.

 

At least six-feet tall and weighing in at probably 200 lbs, mostly muscle and bone, he was being roughly manhandled by the brothers. They were in no way lightweights themselves (especially Benny with his precious paunch) but Nikolai was a dead weight and all angles.

 

Cas watched them awkwardly attempt to swing him over the coffee table (because Dean frankly thought it was funny) and finally stepped over and just took Nikolai from them. Cas hefted Nikolai’s dead weight with ridiculous ease, carrying him the additional three feet onto the couch without help, and putting him down without even the smallest grunt.

 

“I apologize,” he said to the wide-eyed brothers. “That looked uncomfortable for all parties.”

 

Dean started to snicker at their dumbfounded expressions (compounded by their shaggy mountain-men looks) and dragged at Cas. “C’mon. Let’s let them get some sleep.”

 

“We can take you home,” Abram asserted before they made the door.

 

Dean paused and then agreed. “It’d be faster than walking,” he said, taking Cas’s hand. _“Although walking with you would be nice.”_

 

 _“We’ll get back faster,”_ Cas replied, spreading a warm hand across the small of Dean’s back and pushing him forward.

 

Dean was pretty sure there was a goofy grin on his face, and Benny smacked him with a beefy hand. “You should wait until you’re home to flirt.”

 

“I’m not flirting,” Dean protested.

 

Benny snorted and walked away. “You better not have been making out on my couch,” he said as exited to wait by the truck. “I get to do that first!”

 

Abram sidled next to Dean and whispered, “Too late for the couch.”

 

He winked and waited on the patio for them to come out, both boys looking amused, even as Abram shut the door behind them.

 

The drive was quiet, as each man had their own thoughts to contend with, and Dean trying to figure out how he was going to reconcile with Bobby. Would Bobby even talk to him? He had no idea. It had already been a week and a half since Karen had died. He had managed to call Sam, at least, but no word from dad or Bobby. He blew out a sigh, and Cas looked over at him and squeezed his knee. Dean guessed he was exuding anxiety, which it really was for good reason, and did not make him a giant girl. That was Sam.

 

The brothers dropped them off, both of them grinning at the lovers like they were about to step into the house and start fucking right then and there (could happen), but when they got inside, the sound of the heavy truck already fading into the lightening skyline, Dean groaned. “We’re so screwed. I want to call Bobby _now_. I have no idea what to do.”

 

Cas hugged him from the side, and he just leaned into it. “ _It’ll be okay, barsherter._ ”

 

Dean turned to face Cas, burying his face into his shoulder. “It’s _not_ , Cas. If it’s _rabies_ , that’s the worst possible scenario. There’s _no cure_ for rabies. You can’t just go around healing a whole village anyway, because that’ll make everyone suspicious, and once those people get to the violent stage, I’m going to have to put them down.”

 

He wrapped his arms around the smaller man. “Cas, this is too big. I can’t put down that many people. And if they have them all down in the Sett… Cas… those places are small. Cramped. They’re stuck in together for safety. How many are probably infected? Is there even a vaccine for this, because it doesn’t _seem_ like regular old rabies.”

 

Cas’s wings wrapped around him. The cabin had cooled in the time they were away, and Dean was grateful for the warm feathers. The fragrance of wing oil comforted him, and he groaned. “Cas, you’re turning me in to a girl. I would never whine like that to Sam or Bobby.”

 

“Sam and Bobby cannot see your soul, Dean,” Cas murmured, his voice muffled by Dean’s shoulder. “I have seen all of you. There’s nothing to hide from me.”

 

Dean chuckled, and nipped Cas’s earlobe, making him yelp. “That doesn’t mean I have to like unloading like that. You keep getting these chick flick moments out of me. I’m going to end up growing a vagina.”

 

Cas hummed. “Doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” he deadpanned, grabbing Dean’s ass firmly and making _him_ yelp.

 

“Yeah, alright, tough guy. I’m happy to hear my girlification would bring you joy. Let me go so I can restart the fire.”

 

Cas released him, watching him pull out his flashlight to get to the fireplace, but said, “I didn’t say it would bring me joy, Dean. I said it didn’t _sound_ bad.”

He grinned as he watched Dean clean out the fireplace and add more tinder, kindling, and logs. “You round with my child sounds incredibly sexy.”

 

Having wedged the flashlight between his shoulder and jaw, Dean grimaced into the fireplace, pulling out his lighter and lighting the wood. “Says you. Sounds plain disturbing to me.”

 

Cas laughed and stripped, folding his clothes carefully and placing them on the couch before climbing into the bed nook to wait for Dean.

 

Dean half watched him, half kept an eye on the fire, as he poked at the burgeoning flames.

 

“Must be nice not to feel the temperature differences,” he muttered, jealous that Cas didn’t even shiver in the chilly air, and filling with desire for the slim physique that shimmied up the ladder, his back lithe and pale in the darkness.

 

“It does have its advantages,” Cas replied. The sound of bedding being moved and the words, “I’m warming the bed for you” did get Dean half hard in his pants and he blew on the flames a bit to make them catch faster.

 

When he was sure the fire was going to live, and he put the screen in front, he quickly stripped (it was still cold) and hustled up into the nook.

 

“Only let me sleep a couple of hours,” he stuttered, the cold making him shiver as crawled between the sheets. Cas must’ve raised his core temperature, since the bedding was indeed warm as he had promised.

 

“I need to call Sam and get him and Bobby to do the research. Plus we are going back into the woods to look for the Birloga.”

 

“I can wake you,” Cas murmured, pulling him close.

 

Dean shivered some more and finally said, “C-can we get some of that wing action? I’m freezing here.”

 

Chuckling, Cas released his wings, and there was a great deal of clumsy shifting in the limited space until Dean was happily wrapped in his feather cocoon. “So much warmer,” he mumbled, his face in Cas’s chest.

 

He was asleep before he knew it.

* * *

 

 

Dean woke up horny. He realized, after a few moments of blinking away sleep, that it was because Cas was sucking on his dick and waking him up in a _very_ pleasant way. He nipped Dean’s inner thighs, making him squeak (in a manly way), and leaving a trail of bites from his knee to his hip before swallowing him down again.

 

Dean’s fingers wove into Cas’s hair as he tried not to come just from Cas’s deep throating him, praising Jesus for angels not having to breathe. The electric feeling of grace between them started to heat up, crackling like static, and Cas released his cock with a loud pop, pausing to make sure Dean was looking down to see why he stopped so he could smile wickedly, an expression that was positively obscene and debauched on the angel’s face before he licked a long stripe up to the tip and slide his tongue over the slit.

 

Dean’s back arched and he threw his head back into the pillow, releasing Cas’s head as a line of heat and grace thrummed through his veins and he was forced to grip the sheets. “ ** _Fuck, Cas!_** ”

 

Dean _felt_ how pleased his angel was at making him sound that desperate. It hummed through the grace, curled around his spine with a tingle.

 

Cas was feeling rather frisky, it seemed, and without so much as a “Good morning, Dean” straddled his lover carefully, trying to avoid knocking his head on the low ceiling.

 

“Cas! You’re going to kill me!” Dean gasped as Cas pushed himself down on his dick and started fucking himself on Dean like he was just a dildo on a chair. Cas had to do it very carefully, since there really wasn’t much room in the nook, but it was fucking sexy in its own way: Cas was forced to lean forward a bit to not hit his head, bracing himself with one hand on Dean's chest and the other braced against the roof. His hair was more wrecked than usual from Dean’s fingers, his lips red from sucking Dean’s cock, his eyes midnight blue skies with a new moon watching him with pure lust.

 

 _This is fucking amazing_ , Dean thought, which was as coherent as he could get as Cas pushed down and gyrated, causing himself to shudder and clench around Dean. Cas was hot inside, grace tingling around his cock like the faintest of electrical charge. It made him want to push up harder. But Cas hadn't prepped himself and Dean groaned at how tight Cas felt. He gripped Cas’s hips with frantic fingers, desperate for _something_ to hold onto, the tingling, the heat, and the grip of Cas's hole making him pant and want more. He started bucking up as Cas bore down and the sensation was almost _too_ much. Too much friction, too much emotional loop in their bond.

 

The cabin was quiet except for their hot desperate pants, the sound of colliding flesh, and the thumps as Cas’s hand struck the ceiling on the offbeat to push down. 

 

“Cas,” Dean moaned breathlessly, knowing he wasn’t going to last long; it was just too intense. It was too much for him to take.

The feedback of Cas’s pleasure seeped into him even more; it curled around his prostrate now and tickled him there, much like he was sure Cas felt how hot and just _fucking amazing_  he was inside from Dean's emotions; how tight he was every time he bounced down around Dean’s cock. The combination was so close to being filled while fucking someone else, and Dean knew sex with anyone else was going to be meaningless and empty in comparison.

 

He felt Cas edging towards release, his motions more desperate, his breath faster, and Dean started to tumble himself. Possessively, his mind and heart clung to the bond, repeating _mine mine mine_ , even as he cried out, “Cas!” before arching up and coming hard.

 

The feeling doubled as Cas followed soon after, his orgasm ripping through Dean as the bond transmitted it him to enjoy second-hand. Cas cried out, “Dean!” while the grace curled around them and caused their skin to glow for a moment.

 

It was more intense than it had ever been, possibly because they had their own space to fuck and be together.

 

Although Dean was breathing hard (and Cas wasn’t), he wasn’t so out of it not to notice something was bothering Cas.

 

“You okay, angel?”

 

Cas tilted his head and looked down at Dean, his eyes narrowing at some distant point.

 

“I am… not sure,” he replied stiltedly. “Something’s...different.”

 

“Something...? Did I _hurt_ you?” Dean felt a tinge of panic and started to run his hands over his angel. Admittedly, that was the first time that the grace has lit them up like Chinese lanterns, but surely it wasn't anything bad?

 

Cas straightened up as much as he could, still straddling Dean and nearly bumping his head on the ceiling, and smiled down at Dean.

 

“No, of course not. It’s just… something _feels_ different,” he said slowly. "However, I'm not sure what it is."

 

Dean grinned up at him and changed his movements from pure panic to just smoothing over Cas’s warm skin.

 

“Well, you look hot as usual,” he said, tugging at Cas’s elbows.

 

Cas’s expression melted into pure adoration, and he leaned forward and over his basherter.

 

“Temperature-wise, I am the same,” he stated, bracing his hands on either side of Dean’s head and leaning over him for a slow kiss. Dean pulled him in closer and wrapped his arms around him. “What won’t change is how I feel about you.”

 

Cas smiled against his lips.

 

“ _Dean_ ,” was all he said, but it had so much love infused in that one word that Dean felt it to his toes.  


They laid in bed lazily for another fifteen minutes until Cas reminded him that he had to get his ass up and call Bobby and Sam. Grumbling about nice warm beds and arms compared to the cold morning air, he kissed his angel again and dragged himself out of bed, clambering down the ladder.

 

He hastily threw on his clothes from last night, trying not to cringe at the mud on his pants, and shivered as he tried to restart the fire. Cas had followed him down, and, completely nude, was wandering around unaffected. Envy wound itself around Dean briefly, as he wished he was as indifferent to temperature.

 

“ _I think I can heat enough water for one shower_ ,” Cas said as he pulled out the cast iron pan. “ _After you get the fire going, I’ll warm up the food Liza gave us and you can make some coffee.”_

 

“Sure,” he said, fighting with the wood. “I know we’re trying to stay off the grid, but since they know about us in town, can’t we get the utilities turned on?”

 

“ _We won’t be here that long_ ,” Cas countered. “ _After all this, it will be hard to maintain a low profile_.”

 

“Well, that’s true.” Dean wanted to whine about the showers and baths. It was cold and he liked getting warm with a long, super-hot shower with great water pressure. The hot water Cas heated in the water heater lasted maybe twenty minutes, tops. He knew he was being whiny, but… _hot water… need it so much!_

 

Cas looked over, ~~having obviously read his mind~~ , and set down the pan.

 

“Let’s take a shower,” he said, putting out his hand as he walked towards Dean.

 

Dean grinned, thinking it might make for an interesting early morning round two, but Cas chuckled at him. “ _Same amount of water, Dean. Still trying to stay under the radar, otherwise I’d say we could use the microwave.”_

 

 _Damn it_.

 

* * *

 

One rushed, shared shower later, Dean was well-scrubbed, and kissed all over, dressed in his clean clothes and rubbing a towel over his head again. Cas was back to manhandling the cast iron pan and eyeing the fire like it was going to be an issue.

 

That sense of satisfaction roiled through Dean as Cas was wearing his old KISS t-shirt he had inherited from his dad (Dressed To Kill '75!) and jeans that were worn through at the knees. He automatically caught the phone when Cas tossed it to him.

 

“ _It’s getting late. I wouldn’t be surprised if the brothers show up soon._ ”

 

Dean heaved a new sigh and threw himself backwards onto the couch. Reluctantly, he flipped the phone open and turned it on. The phone was built for holding a long charge between power ups, and not to be fancy. He pressed the speed dial, and tried to hold onto his courage as the phone rang.

 

“This is Bobby.”

 

It gave him a small shock to hear Bobby’s voice after such leaving on such shitty terms. He swallowed hard, and said thickly, “Hey, Bobby.”

 

There was a pause, a tension thick enough to cut through, even over the phone, when Bobby said with a sigh, “Hey, idjit. ‘Bout time you called.”

 

Dean felt his relief bubble up but he brutally shoved it down and said, “Yeah, I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me anytime soon… after… “

 

It was left unsaid, since they both knew he was talking about Karen.

 

“Boy, that wasn’t your fault,” Bobby said gruffly. “She knew better than to jump into a Grimm fight, but she chose to anyway.” There was a suspicious snuffle on the line, and a cough. “That ain’t why you called though, is it? What trouble did you fall into _this_ time?”

 

“I seriously didn’t do it this time, Bobby.” He briefly outlined the situation, giving Bobby details when asked, and ending on, “I swear it’s presenting like rabies, but I don’t know of anything that’s _just_ Wesen specific. The humans seem okay, or, at least, there’s been no reports of illness from them.”

 

“What about the donor? You said you found out who he was?”

 

“Yeah, Cas stole the paperwork for me. I just had to tell him what to look for and where, and he managed to dig it up.” He grabbed the file that was sitting on the coffee table. “It says… yeah, I can’t say this. I’m gonna spell it. But first name is ‘Misha.’” He eyed the name again. “ _Misha_? What's up with the names around here?”

 

Bobby just grunted, which Dean took as he didn’t give a shit. He took the hint. He slowly spelled out the name, and Bobby whistled. “That’s a hell of a name. I don’t think I can even say it right? ‘Quma’giinaq’? Must be native. I’ll look it u — ah, wait. Sam says he can find it online.” Huff of disapproval. “Damn machines are gonna take over the world, like in Terminator.”

 

Dean chuckled and asked, “How’s he doing, Bobby? Is he behaving? I’m surprised dad just let him stay there…”

 

There was a small pause, the sound of typing in the background. “He’s… okay. Yer dad… well, y’know he never got on with Karen, what with his conservative views.” Dean could hear the disapproval, even if Bobby was trying to hide it. “But, I think he knew how important she was to me and Sam. We’ve been holding up okay, us two bachelors.”

 

Another pause, the sound of Bobby’s modem trying to connect into the Internet. “What about you and fly boy? Everything okay?”

 

“Everything’s been fine,” Dean said elusively. “We’ve been on the run, but I had no idea avoiding technology _and_ Wesen was gonna be so hard.”

 

“Yeah, surprising number of the bastards in the world. Just remember, don’t just go in swinging. That’s yer dad’s M.O., not yers.”

 

Dean suppressed a smile. “Yes, Bobby,” he said with an edge of fondness.

 

Another huff. “Boy, you better not think this is pretty princess emotional moment. Just watch yer ass, and the ass of that boy of yers.”

 

 “Yes, Bobby.” This time, more subdued. “But do you know anything about Wesen-specific illnesses?”

 

“Only one comes to mind is Fluvus Pestilentia, better known as the Yellow Plague, but it doesn’t affect them worse when they’re woged. It sort of forces them woge, since their, uh, _urges_ surge to the surface. Ain’t pretty, but you said there was no real physical show, aside from dehydration and a cold sweat.”

 

Dean grunted assent when Sam said distantly, “Ah, it’s Aleut! Means ‘White Face!’”

 

Bobby muttered, “White-Face...Aleut...why does that sound familiar…?”

 

“I have no idea, Bobby. I need to find this… ‘Misha’ guy. Any ideas?”

 

“Well, if they are migratory, they might be following the rivers or the coast. Ask yer buddies and see if they know anything.”

 

“Yeah, I’m trying to avoid that right now. The Cete leader’s kinda… not happy with my presence.”

 

Bobby sighed. “Yer gonna get yerself killed, aren’t you, you idjit!”

 

“Hey! It had nothing to do with me! I wasn’t even born when whatever happened on the Russian border happened!”

 

“Probably from the Cete Purges of 1975,” Bobby hummed under his breath.

 

“Well,” he said more loudly, “I’ll keep looking things up. I mean, you said Feathers thought it was rabies?”

 

“Yeah, but weird rabies. The symptoms are there, but only in Wesen.”

 

“Weird.” He heaved a sigh. “Sam and I will get on it.”

 

Sam cheered somewhere in the background, and Dean chuckled out, “Nerd.”

 

“You’re just lucky it’s Sunday. I’ve been sending Sam to school.”

 

“Bet the big girl loves it. Wears his hair in a ponytail and bounces to school and everything.”

 

“Well, the bouncing part is right, at least.”

 

“I bet.” He looked over to where Cas was plating the food. Cas looked up and smiled. “Yeah, and Cas says ‘hi.’ Anyway, just text me any information, if that’s okay. I can’t keep my phone on. No power in this hut.”

 

“Okay, you got it.”

 

He hung up. “Back to the river, I guess.” He leaned his head back and asked, “Any ideas where to look for a bunch of exiled natives?”

 

“ _Probably in the last place we’d want to look.”_

 

“Yeah,” Dean grumbled. “Probably.”

 

* * *

 

“It’s cold.”

 

Dean shivered as he stood on the dock of Port Graham. Thanks to its location at the tip of the Kenai Peninsula, he was freezing his balls off. The t-shirts, two flannels, and the hoodie were _not_ working well enough, not when the icy winds were cutting through his clothes like they were tissue.

 

Cas looked over at him with sympathy and suggested they visit a store to purchase him a heavier coat. Dean had rarely heard such a good idea in his young life.

 

Thanks to a quick text from Bobby about a probable location, and a visit to Liza, who fed them and got them a boat ride out, they were finally back on track.

 

Port Graham was hard to get to, thanks to the terrain being too treacherous and rugged to get over in a timely fashion. It meant that the only means of visiting was by boat or by seaplane, and Dean was not even going to get in a tiny, single propeller P.O.S. when he wouldn’t even get in a huge metal canister than hurdled through the air. He had thrown enough paper planes to see how easily they went down. There was no fucking way he was getting in one. Fuck no.

 

That meant getting a ride somehow, because Cas had remained stubborn about using his powers.

 

Of course, the fast boat ride meant Dean got to see Cas get all sparkly eyed and damp from standing in the bow and enjoying the ~~fucking ice cold~~ wind.

 

The ship’s captain, an old guy named Bogdan (Like seriously, what was up with these names?) watched Cas with a sort of bewildered fascination, obviously never having seen someone not nearly catch their death of cold while hurtling over the ocean at thirty-odd knots. The wind was with them, at least. In contrast, Dean was hiding in the wheelhouse so he could keep an eye on Cas but not have that same wind slice him like a country ham.

 

Bogdan had promised to stop back by the next day, and Dean paid him half on that promise. Times were tight all round.

 

Port Graham was a small fishing town. It did have a small set of stores, and they managed to find a coat that Dean deemed ‘acceptable.’ It was military green, oversized to hide his weapons, and had a huge hood with fur trim to help keep him warm. He also bought two knit beanies in royal blue for Cas and emerald green for himself, two pairs of thinner waterproof gloves with grip, and some better socks. Because of the glare, he bought himself from sunglasses to protect his eyes. The fake credit card worked fine, and Mr. Calzolari was soon happily feeling his toes and fingers again.

 

Clothing sorted out, they hitched a ride out as far as they could, which wasn’t that far out, seeing as there were like three roads, and hoofed it into the forests as soon as they were just close enough.

 

It annoyingly difficult: the area was made of 98% trees and uncharted territory.

 

Unsure of what they were precisely looking for, they followed the river, looking for signs of habitation or encampment.

 

As it was, Dean was counting on Cas at least being able to feel several souls hunched together over a campfire, and it felt like luck when, finally, they found a small group of kids between the ages of four to fifteen at the edge of the river, fishing and collecting what looked like either shiny rocks or bait.

 

The oldest was a young woman, who really looked fifteen at most. Dean had to admire her because, frankly, she was gorgeous. Her nutbrown skin was glowing and her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, while she was in a light coat that was a rusty red with white trim. The ponytail revealed a small, round face with sharp almond-shaped eyes the color of chocolate, a button nose, and a fuller bottom lip.

 

She was going to be a man killer when she was older, he reckoned.

 

She stood up when she saw them approach, dusting off the knees of her jeans, her feet in well-worn uggs, while the children behind her suddenly crowded behind her like a pile of frightened pups. They all stared at Dean and Cas’s approach, although both he and Cas had their hands out in a non-threatening manner.

 

The young woman was clearly only as tall as his shoulder, but her chin went up and her posture was wary and ready.

 

Dean smiled charmingly at her, and asked, “Are you camped out here? I’m looking for some folks…”

 

Those dark eyes flicked from Cas to Dean and she nodded warily.

 

Cas walked away from Dean’s back and towards the river. Dean watched him out of the corner of his eye looking at the edge and picking up things. He noticed the young woman’s slight relief and the bevy of curious youngsters watching Cas.

 

He smiled reassuringly at her and said, “My name is Ronnie Wood, and my buddy there is Darryl Jones. We’re students at Anchorage University, and friend there is doing his thesis on the Birloga.”

 

Her eyes widened at the name and she took a small step back, her hands reaching out to guard the kids.

 

Dean noted her response and nodded. “We just want to talk to them. We don’t want to hurt anybody.”

 

The woman snapped, “People always say that before they hurt others.”

 

Dean half shrugged because she made a good point. “That’s true. But I swear we’re just students. We just want to ask about someone named…” He turned around. “Hey, what was his name again?”

 

Cas turned and regarded the girl with knowing blue eyes. “Quma’giinaq.”

 

The woman paled and she stared at Cas like he was a ghost.

 

Dean nodded, and said, “Yeah, that’s it. First name was like… Musa? Mufasa? Something?”

 

“Misha,” the girl said through bloodless lips. “Misha Quma’giinaq? It was a joke.”

 

Dean was actually surprised she acknowledged it so quickly. “What was a joke?”

 

Her chin stubbornly lifted again, and she said something to the children behind her. Two boys nodded and ran off, Dean figured it was to tell others that they were here.

 

“ _She told them to warn their grandfather. I’m guessing we’re on the right track.”_

Dean smiled crookedly. “We’re not here to start trouble,” he reassured her. “There’s a sickness in Barsuki —“

 

She unintentionally sucked in a breath at that and looked horrified at the news. Her eyes grew wide and, if possible, she paled more. She turned to the children and told them something that made them look at Dean and Cas with wide frightened eyes and run away towards the trees like a monster was behind them.  

 

When she turned back to Dean, she was sweating slightly, nervously. “I don’t know this ‘Misha Quma’giinaq’ person.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to say he seriously doubted that, when, from behind him, Cas said something in a weird language.

 

If it was humanly possible, the girl’s eyes got wider, and then, suddenly, she woged, blond shaggy fur sprouting out from her face, head, and what was visible of her hands, while her ears grew round and she gained a snout and fangs. Dean, grateful his sunglasses hid his eyes, saw that her hands were clenched, with her thumbs showing obviously huge claws.

 

“Who are you?” She snarled, her black rimmed lips curling in warning that was more fear than anything.

 

Cas walked up next to Dean, and said, “We’re just here to ask about Misha Quma’giinaq. That’s it.”

 

The round brown eyes narrowed and she huffed a couple of times in response, sounding like she was snuffling the air. She eyed Cas a bit longer and, her voice low and rumbly, “You. What are you? Your anirniq is strange.” She sniffed at him. “You do not smell right.”

 

Cas smile again, and he said, “I must speak to your Quga bix, your shaman. I know he must be nearby, since you sent the children away.”

 

Those narrowed round eyes sharpened even more, and she looked as if she were about to full woge, when a roar from the edge of the forest vibrated past them, and they all three turned to look.

 

A large graying Kodiak bear stood at the edge, its eyes white with age, shook its head at them, and then he lumbered back into the forest.

 

The young woman hesitated and then woged back to her human face. Her lips were pressed into a tense line, but she nodded and said, “You can come with me. We will see who we will see.”

 

The campsite was not glorious, but it was not bad. There were fish drying in the sun over a smoking fire. The children were nowhere to be seen, but there were evidence of faded plastic Powerwheels and a very patched over soccer ball. To one side, there was a small cooking area with burners set out, a small pile of various tubers on the table. There was a large RV with a large peeling canopy, under which an old man sat.

 

The old man’s skin was a burnished bronze of being naturally dark and of being in the sun so much. His face was covered in wrinkles, but they looked like they were almost decorative and he wore them proudly. He was wearing an old gray and red baseball cap that had definitely had better days, over a head of long hair that had gone almost completely white, and his down coat had quite a few patched spots on it. His eyes, however, were milky white, which made his staring eerie. He watched as the young woman walked he and Cas to the RV, and, although they didn’t say anything as they approached, he waved towards the other two fold up lawn chairs, which had also had better days.

 

As Dean carefully sat down, the old man said, “Both of you… your anirniq, your spirit, is strange. Who are you?” He pointed at Cas. “What are you?”

 

Cas asked, “Where is everyone?”

 

The old man smiled toothlessly and said, “They are where they should be now. As Agu'gux has deemed us be.”

 

“And that’s who?” Dean couldn’t help asking. He was missing too much in this conversation already.

 

The blind eyes turned to him, the once-handsome old man sitting back slightly while looking at him. “Agu'gux creates all. He watches over those of us of the Taquka'at-anirniq. We who you, Grimm, would call ‘Wesen.’”

 

Dean stiffened and immediately posed to go on the defensive.

 

The old man just smiled at him. “Look around, there is no one else here. Just we three, a Grimm, a Wesen, and a…” He shifted the milky eyes to Cas and squinted. “I suspect you are anirnisiaq, or what the Christians would call angel, because you are too bright in my sight.”

 

Cas smiled at him. “You can call me anirnisiaq, because it’s not wrong. I am that.” He tilted his head. “Although most have failed to see that. I can see your sight is very strong, angakkuq.”

 

The old man patted his knee companionably and said, “Call me Shesh. It’s good enough.”

 

Dean nodded, and leaned in a bit. “We are looking for information on a man named ‘Misha Quma’giinaq,’ who’s supposed to be from your clan.”

 

Shesh nodded. “There is no one named that,” he said comfortably, sitting back in his folded chair, not even surprised when it tilted a bit dangerously to the left.

 

“We have records of a man whose organs were used for transplants in both Homer and Anchorage.”

 

Dean started to pull the list out of his pocket, but then realized there was no point with a blind man. He coughed uncomfortably.

 

“Anyway, we can trace his transplant to a young man in Barsuki by the name of Daniil Rostov. Do you have any information at all?”

 

Shesh quirked a smile and chuckled lowly. “You two do not have the right question, only the wrong answers. There is no ‘Misha Quma’giinaq’ and there had not been in a long, long time, since before the white man arrived on our lands.”

 

“Then, what’s the right question?” Cas asked slowly.

 

The old man blinked and smiled a bit more gently. “A long, long time ago, there was a hunter who was very skillful and killed many bears.”

 

 _Aww, man… storytime._ Dean tried to interrupt, but Cas put out a hand to stop him. “ _Dean, wait.”_

 

Shesh continued, "Because of his success, his friends were envious and plotted to kill him. They schemed together and went to a shaman deep in the woods, and begged him to transform the successful hunter into a beast. The shaman agreed to their request and told them how.

'Shoot a bear, skin it and place the skin under the pillow of your successful hunter,' advised the shaman.

And, after the bear-skin had been prepared, the shaman and his friends quietly went to the man's hut and placed the skin under the man's pillow. They hid themselves to see what would happen when the man went to bed. They watched the magic work upon the man, and did nothing, content with their deed. It was as such that, upon waking, the man found that he had become a huge bear with a white face and white feet."

 

So Shesh told the story out, a tale of jealousy and revenge, with the White-faced Bear being hunted by the new "best hunter," and how the White-faced Bear craved vengeance against the Shaman who had transformed him and the jealous men who had requested it. 

In the end, the new "best hunter" also betrayed him, and the White-faced Bear tore him and his people to pieces, also in revenge. It ended with everyone mentioned dead, the White-faced Bear still cursed to be a bear, back to hiding in the forests to hide, his vengeance against all his betrayers achieved.

 

Shesh sat back, looking please with himself. "That was our ancestor," he said proudly, rubbing his hands together. 

 

Cas scowled and appeared to think about the moral of the story.

 

Dean blew out a frustrated sigh, rubbed his gloved hand over his cold nose and lips, and muttered, “I have no idea what that even means…”

 

“It means there is no Misha Quma’giinaq,” the old man said, smiling. He picked up a Seattle Seahawks travel mug from next to his seat, popped the top, and took a long sip, sucking at the lid.

 

Dean threw his hands up, “You keep saying that, bu—“

 

“Dean,” Cas said suddenly, “Remember? Bobby said that name meant ‘white face’!”

 

Startled, Dean turned his gaze to the old man. “Does that mean ‘Misha’ has special meaning?”

 

Shesh shrugged and took another sip. “It’s the name of the bear mascot at the Russian Olympics,” he said slowly.

 

“Are you telling me that his name was an alias that meant ‘White-faced bear’ this whole damn time?!” Dean snapped, standing up.

 

“Dean,” Cas said warningly, grabbing his arm.

 

Dean yanked it away and said, “If that’s the point, who was he?”

 

The old man tutted and shook his finger at them. “See… that’s the _right_ question.”

 

Cas pulled Dean back into his seat, and asked, “Then, please tell us who he was.”

 

Shesh leaned back in his chair. “Indeed, who was he?”

 

He picked at the end of his coat, where the edge had frayed a bit. “He was a good man who was punished for it. His wife and kids left to die by those Barsuki scum when they were looking for help after a car accident. They refused them medical assistance, and forbade the doctor from helping them.”

 

White eyes looked straight at them, making Dean shiver with their intensity.

 

“They were covered in horrible wounds, and the youngest daughter died on the street, while the wife lasting a bit longer, clutching her. The oldest daughter tried to come back to the camp, but she was caught by a pack of those _beasts_ , and they raped and killed her.”

 

Shesh swallowed hard, and moved his sightless gaze down into his lap. “The man, husband, father found his family in the street, and he became distraught and begged for justice. He went to the police, but there was no evidence of wrong doing, especially when the bodies were found next to the ruin of the car. His eldest daughter's body had gone missing, and the police were lax and wouldn't search for her. Why would they? They had helped kill her.”

 

Dean watched as Shesh clenched his hands into fists, the nut-brown hands paling at the knuckles, although they were crooked with arthritis. It must have hurt a lot, but the man kept them clenched as he spat, “The husband came to me and begged to speak to their _anirniit_ , and, the gods help me, I summoned their spirits as he asked. They appeared to him, and the wife begged for vengeance, and then promising it to them.”

 

The old man seemed to shrink on himself and muttered, “She escaped my control, as she and the eldest daughter had become _tuurngaq_ , evil spirits, and they possessed him.”

 

White eyes turned on them and he said, slowly, as if aching from it. “That man’s name was Adrian Rock. With the _tuurngaq_ riding him, he sent a letter to Barsuki about transplants, specified in his will that he wanted someone in Barsuki to have one of his organs, and then he just suddenly died of a brain aneurysm in the emergency waiting room in Anchorage.”

 

He spread his hands in front of himself as if he were a magician who had revealed his trick. "That is how his organs came to Barsuki. The  _tuurngaq_ ate him, changed his name, and made their move towards vengeance."

 

Dean frowned at the information. It was a lot. Cas bent forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands loosely hanging, and he asked, “These _tuurngaq_ … with the host dead, what can they do?”

 

Shesh smile and echoed Cas’s sitting position, bending forward to put his face within inches of the angel’s. “Well, now… why don’t you tell me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm no expert at Aleut and there's some disagreement between sites about certain meanings, so if you KNOW it, and know I'm wrong, please tell me. I would rather be corrected than spread the wrong ideas.
> 
>  **Agu'gux** is the Aleut 'general' creator.  
>  **Anirniq** means 'breath,' but refers to the 'form' of the spirit.  
>  **Birloga** is a Ninlchik word for "lair" or "den." I used it because they don't have a home base so their family is their 'den.'  
>  **Taquka'at-anirniq** means "Bear-spirit," (which... that's me. As far as I know, they don't have an official word for that) and which I'm using for Jägerbar.  
>  **Tuurngaq** means "spirits that have become dark." When translated to English, "demon" is sometimes used.  
>  **Quga bix** is basically a shaman.
> 
> The tale of the "White-faced Bear" is real. I tweaked it a bit, but it's a real story from the Aleut. You can Google it. :)


End file.
